Butterfly Stitches
by Dannemund
Summary: Sole Survivor Ruby Ruiz is in a bad way after visiting the Institute; companions Danse and MacCready attempt to make her feel better, as the story progresses. Ruby fights to learn to love again. Contains spoilers, rated M for general content.
1. Never Alone

Note: This might be the _only_ Fallout 4 fiction you'll see from me. I had the same reaction as Ruby when I got in there. Devastating to me.

Mostly this is just me exploring the various characters and how I'd write them. Have to get some feedback on that before I decide anything.

Last warning, there are _**spoilers**_ here.

* * *

"You with the Minutemen?"

 _Every_ time she turned around, there was someone looking for her. Someone who needed her to say it was _okay_ that this had happened―that _that_ had gone on. Someone who needed a friend gotten out of a jam or a problem dealt with. Someone who wanted to know where to put the newest shipment of wood or the last batch of screws that came into town.

"Got something a little different for you, ma'am."

 _Every_ time she turned around, one of the people she'd roused from the Commonwealth had to be behind her, _watching_ her. Never a moment to herself, never five minutes without someone coming up and scaring her into pissing herself. Never a moment alone, even in sleep, because someone was always _watching_ over her.

"Hey, can you help? We're really in a bind here."

The last time she'd pulled her pistol on the man, and scared _him_ half to death in return.

It was... it really was too much. She _couldn't_ handle it―

* * *

"Where's―" MacCready stared up at the sky for a second. "Garvey! _Where's Ruby!"_

Garvey's head poked out over the edge of a roof. Looked down at the former Gunner for a moment, his eyes shaded by the wide brim of his hat. He glanced around the settlement for another long moment, and MacCready was about to walk away when the quiet man called out, "Thought I saw her heading up the rocks."

"I swear―" MacCready rubbed his cheek and closed his eyes. _Everywhere is rocks, man. Thanks for being so honestly vague._

"Over there," Garvey indicated, motioning to the northwest. "She probably went up to the Vault."

"Oh, _da_ ―man," MacCready muttered, staring up at the rocks. Corrected himself again. Needed to get _better_ at that. "Rock paper scissors, see who goes to get her?"

Garvey only shook his head and went back to work. "Leave her alone, MacCready. Only one reason she'd go up to the Vault."

 _Yeah, but..._ MacCready turned and stared up at the little outcropping; the small outbuilding atop of it stood lonely against the trees. He'd never been inside the place, but it was a Vault. Vaults weren't all that much different from one another. Prisons, hells, _what have you._ Places you didn't _want_ to be inside of.

"We're getting all kinds of requests for help on that radio of yours," MacCready called out to Garvey. "People are getting _antsy."_

"Listen, MacCready―" Garvey poked his head out over the roof edge again. "These people, they need Ruiz. We all need her. But Ruiz needs herself, too."

"Cryptic, much?" MacCready pulled the brim of his hat down a little further, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Garvey shrugged. "You don't like being alone, that's fine. Some of us need the time to sort ourselves out. Ruiz goes up to the Vault to be alone. You go on and bug her―" A loud bang sounded as Garvey nailed something down. "She might tell you to hit the bricks. You'll be alone for sure, after _that."_

"Dammi―" MacCready stopped himself. _"Dangit."_

Garvey chuckled, and the sound carried over the breeze. MacCready listened to the work sounds going on, staring up at the little building on the outcropping. After a few minutes, he moved on. The radio was still banging off like gunfire, people calling in for various reasons, when he returned to the workshop.

 _I ain't a damn secretary,_ he thought to himself. _C'mon, Ruby._

* * *

"What are you doing, Knight Ruiz?"

Ruby sighed, stared at her hands on the chair she was moving around, and turned her head to look at who was asking her the question. _Knew_ who it was. Didn't much care to answer, but if she didn't she knew what would happen.

After a moment, Danse would repeat the question a little more firmly. And she would be compelled to answer him because he was a superior officer. Even if she was the damn _General_ of the _Minutemen,_ his devout attitude toward military style would demand she answer.

"I'm moving this chair into the corner," she said, tiredly. "Was there something you needed, Danse?"

"Garvey's watch reported movement in the west, probably ghouls. We should eradicate the threat before it becomes pressing." Danse looked down at the chair. "I could help you with that, you know."

"Thank you, Danse, but sometimes you just want to do things by _yourself,"_ she muttered, pushing the chair across the crumbling linoleum.

"All the same, if you need assistance, I am available."

 _"Hey, Blue!"_

Ruby blew out a deep breath and took her hands off the chair, rubbing her forehead and closing her eyes. _"Danse..._ Garvey can take care of the ghouls. You can join him if you wish." She turned her head back to the door. "Tell Piper I'm in here, won't you, please?"

Danse watched her for a silent moment, then nodded swiftly, and turned. His armor was loud as he walked away. She felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.

Ruby waited for a moment before moving to the door and staring out of it. Piper was across the cul-de-sac, distractedly talking to MacCready again. She'd already forgotten whatever it was she'd wanted, what she'd called out for. Ruby leaned against the door frame and watched the two of them, wondering.

Whatever _those_ two had to talk about―Ruby shook her head. Probably conspiracy theories and little green men. Things that rightly _should_ have died with the millions of folks who passed in the War―

Ruby's heart _hurt,_ wrenching inside her chest.

She turned her eyes up to the rocks, staring at the place where the Vault was. _No. Not today._ She breathed out through her nose and felt her teeth grinding against one another. _Not... today._

A long time later, after Piper tore herself away from MacCready and made her way over to Ruby, they moved the chair to its place while Piper jabbered in her ear about something that she barely paid attention to.

 _...Not today._

* * *

"You look like hell run cold," Hancock said, flicking at her hat as he walked by. "Take a break."

 _"Can't,"_ Ruby answered, pulling the cord tighter. She was holding a wall in place, while Garvey nailed in the last bit. A thin sheen of sweat across her brow was chilled by the wind as it picked up, a dark front of yellow-brown clouds coming across the sky.

 _"Hey!"_ someone yelled behind her, and Ruby closed her eyes and breathed out. "Hey, there's a radiation storm coming in! _Everyone pack it up!"_

Garvey turned his eyes out to the sky as she opened hers, and he lowered the hammer he was holding. "General," he said, nodding to her. "You can let go, now."

Ruby loosened her arms, untangling her arms from the cord. She rubbed her wrists and gathered up the cord, wrapping it around her elbow and palm.

"Hancock's right," Garvey said, after a moment. "You _ought_ to take a break."

"Too much to do," she muttered, staring at the cord as it wrapped around her arm. Tucked in the end and pried it from her arm, placing it inside the house that was going up. Too many new settlers to house, all of them wanting their own places. Too much scrap to manage, too much work to organize.

 _"Two minute warning!_ Storm's coming in fast!"

"I think we can spare you for five minutes, ma'am," Garvey said, his mouth curling up in a smile. "World isn't going to end _again."_

"Might, yet," she grumbled, rubbing her head and adjusting her hat. Didn't like the Minutemen hat much, but it kept the sun out of her eyes. Better than wearing those ridiculous goggles she kept peeling off the raiders in the area. "Gotta stay busy. There's not much else I can _do,_ right now."

"Maybe go out and find something to shoot, then." Garvey patted her shoulder. "Take MacCready. He's fairly useless around here." His face crinkled up into a smile.

"No argument _there,"_ she muttered. The Gunner was decent at weeding but didn't like handling this framework business. Didn't care about the dirt on his hands, but God _forbid_ the boy get a splinter.

"Might do you good to get away from home for a little while, anyway," Garvey said. Ruby stared at the ground, eyeing the weeds. He knew too much. They _all_ knew too much. She couldn't hide from the past nor the future, anymore.

 _Sanctuary Hills._ What used to be _home._ Only... it wasn't home if _Nate_ wasn't there―

 _Or Shaun._ She'd _had_ him. She'd had him in her grasp, and _she'd_ ―Ruby blinked furiously, keeping the tears at bay, trying not to think about it. It was her _own_ _fault―_ she'd _had_ him and she'd _let_ _go―_

"Ma'am?" Garvey cleared his throat.

She looked up at the man, blinking. Pulled herself together. "I understand what you're saying, Preston. But with that storm coming on and this place only half finished―hell, half of these people are _already_ borrowing a bed―"

"I know it feels like there's too much to do," Garvey said, squeezing her shoulder. "I asked you to take on the Minutemen because I knew you _could_ handle it, ma'am. Not because I thought you would clear out when given the chance. Everyone deserves a moment to _themselves,_ though."

Ruby sighed, and stared at him. He nodded to her, his head tilting slightly. "Go out and kill some bad guys. Make the world better while you're trying to run away from it. It'll be a better break than you would take for yourself."

Ruby frowned angrily. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean―" she started, before they were interrupted yet again.

"Mum?"

She took a deep breath, feeling the pain in her ears, and wiped her eyes of tears. Codsworth. A reminder―of _that_ day―

 _"Goddammit,"_ she muttered, sniffling.

"Mum, there's a storm coming. Everyone needs to take shelter, and soon." Codsworth, his jets whirring furiously, came up behind them. Garvey released her shoulder and thanked the robot, sent him on his way. He watched Codsworth floating off across the ground for a moment, before turning back to her.

"Ma'am?" he said, softly.

"Preston, I'm going up to the Vault," she breathed out.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "We'll be here when you get back. No worries."

Ruby walked away, rubbing her eyes and trying to stem the tears before they fell.

Was it too much to ask that they _not_ be?

* * *

"I met someone from a Vault before," MacCready was saying, putting his feet up on the end of a couch in the half-finished bar building. Crackling noises came from another corner, where Paladin Danse was standing and watching his radiation counter. Outside of the bar, the storm had picked up, rolling directly overhead in a matter of moments.

Piper rolled her eyes. "Like you said you met those _aliens,_ down in the Capital?" she asked, popping another piece of bubblegum into her mouth.

"You don't believe me, that's _alright,"_ the young man said. "I used to live in this little cave town called Little Lamplight. I met the Lone Wanderer, back when I was thirteen."

Piper snorted. Danse shot the man a glance. MacCready leaned back on the couch and pulled his hat down over his face, shrugging and crossing his arms. "Came from Vault 101. Tough as nails." He smiled. "Didn't want to put up with my smart _as_ ―behind, that's for sure."

"I don't doubt," Piper said, but her tone indicated she did. Very _much_ so.

"I'm _serious,"_ MacCready said. "I was there when they started up that purifier and everything. Made the whole place a lot more _tolerable."_

"The Capital was a very violent place, even after the Lone Wanderer arrived," Danse said, working his fingers inside his gloves and properly fitting them. "And you weren't old enough to have 'been there' when the Brotherhood freed the purifier," he added, with finality.

"I meant I was _in_ the Capital, get off my back," the young man whined.

 _Ignorant civilian._ Danse looked up through the open roof of the building, the corner where he was sitting exposed directly to the sky. He was relatively safe from the radiation in his power armor, but these folk were taking the direct brunt of it―excepting maybe MacCready, after Ruiz outfitted him with his special armor. Ruiz had taken him out into the wastes more often, lately. Danse suspected it was because the man was a nuisance inside the settlement.

Piper stared up at the sky, as well, and sighed. "She's off at the Vault again, isn't she?" she asked, softly. They both knew _who_ she was referring to.

Ruiz had been going up the Vault a lot more frequently since her _brief_ visit to the Institute. Danse had been there when she returned; he knew how long it had taken her, exactly. When she reappeared, she'd fallen to her knees and mumbled out an apology to Elder Maxson. The Elder had been _very_ displeased with her behavior.

Danse had never seen Ruiz as close to tears, as he had that day. It was disturbing to see, in such a strong woman.

"Probably. Don't know _why_ she does," MacCready said, closing his eyes and making himself comfortable on the couch. "Nothing to do, up there. Nothing but _mope."_

"Reflecting on times past, perhaps," Danse said, attempting to end the conversation. _"Hardly_ moping."

"She _has_ to be lonely," Piper said, leaning an elbow onto the table in front of her. "Her whole family's _gone,_ no one she knows alive... but for Codsworth." She glanced over at the Paladin with a concerned face. "Think one of us go up and see if she's okay?"

"It's not our place to get involved with someone's private business," Danse put in, growing more agitated. It certainly _wasn't._

"Garvey keeps telling me not to bother, too," MacCready said. "But, man... wouldn't you just kill to get _into_ that place, see what it's like up there?"

 _"No,"_ Danse snapped, and calmed himself. He was not particularly worried about Ruiz, but―

She deserved more respect than the impudent young man was apparently _willing_ to give her. He would not understand the concern that Danse had for his sister in the Brotherhood, such as Ruiz. _He_ had broken his contract with the Gunners―admittedly, an ignoble group―over _personality_ problems.

Piper raised an eyebrow at Danse's hard tone. MacCready pushed his hat back and glanced over at him. "Don't bite my head off or nothing," he said, amused. "Just _curious,_ is all."

"It's none of our business. Ruiz needs the time alone." Danse narrowed his eyes at the man. _"You_ aren't guiding the people toward freedom in the wasteland. Don't presume you know what's going through her head."

MacCready sat up and planted his feet onto the wooden floor, staring across the room. He nodded, after a moment, making a popping noise with his mouth. "You're _right,"_ he said, thoughtfully. "Hey, Piper, you got any more of that gum?"

Danse stared up at the sky again, wondering how long it would be until the storm passed. With companions like these two―not wanting to put any _serious_ thought into the coming fight―it was no wonder that Ruiz had to hole herself up inside the Vault. Just for a moment of freedom from the inanity.

He closed his eyes against a spattering of rain and felt the cool breeze swirling into the building. As much as he had dissuaded the two from visiting the Vault, he himself had ulterior motives to explain away his presence.

Perhaps it would be best to mind the Knight. She hadn't been very _acquiescent_ to action, lately.

She might need someone to shore up her defenses, too. She'd... patiently listened to his problems, even though her own eyes were hurting and his questions were a drop in her bucket of problems. Afterward, he'd felt very uncomfortable for piling such trouble onto hers, and weighting her down with it.

Perhaps he owed her an apology. It was the _least_ he could do.

* * *

He found her curled up inside the Vault. No one had bothered her, when she was there before. He didn't know quite _what_ to expect.

She'd taken the elevator down, opened the door to the inside, and made her way down a direct corridor to the cryo-pods. Danse stared down at her for a moment, wondering if she was conscious―there was no way she had _not_ heard his approach, after all―

She was still, though, and did not react to him. Ruiz was on the floor below the dead man's feet, lying on her side and staring blankly into the room. She was holding her hand where her wedding ring was, and twisting the band slowly. If not for that slow movement, she appeared _dead._

He turned his head to stare at the body just inside the pod, curled up in death and still frozen. This would be... her husband? He narrowed his eyes. Shot to death, _efficiently_ so. Hands curled up to his chest in a defensive position.

He was not insensitive to losing someone so important. But... in _this_ situation, he did not know quite the way to react. Ruiz was upset and had been crying. He was not good at "crying". Nor did he know how to console a nerve-wracked female who had thrown herself to the ground in her grief.

She had not been _this_ troubled, before. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking, to be so enervated. Perhaps she was... _inconsolable._ Perhaps _his_ coming here, was a mistake.

"Knight Ruiz?" he asked, after a moment. _Only one way to find out._

"What do you want, Danse?" she asked, her voice cracking and dull. "God, why can't you people leave me _alone."_ She jammed her eyes shut against him.

"I think, in this instance, it is probably _better_ that you are not alone," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "You appear to be..." he hesitated, " _in distress,_ and I doubt that allowing you to work yourself into such a state is advisable."

"Stick in the mud," Ruiz sighed, and dropped her hands to the floor, going limp. "Who needs something, _now?"_

"No one needs anything." Danse sighed. "Pardon my forwardness, but... I'd hazard a guess that _you're_ the one who _needs_ something."

 _"Yeah,"_ she said, sorrowfully, and opened her eyes. Tears fell from her cheeks, across her nose and to the floor. _"I_ _need Nate."_

Danse turned to the side, studying the man. "He was a good man, I'm sure."

"The _best,"_ she whispered. She closed her eyes and shuddered in a sob.

Danse watched her lying on the floor, not sure what to do. "Would... would you like me to leave?" he asked, carefully. "I can give you privacy, if you'd rather I not be here."

That was awkward. He winced at his words.

But she didn't respond. Danse stepped backward and turned around, then paused when two pairs of eyes met his; eyes that oughtn't have been there. He frowned, deeply, then strode across the floor to the door, grabbing the two civilians by the back of their collars and pulling them away from the sight.

"Did I _not_ tell you to leave Ruiz alone?" he asked, firmly escorting the two away.

Piper said nothing of note, grunting under his hand and struggling. MacCready, the more lithe of the two, wrapped an arm around his and pulled away with strength that shouldn't have been possible for the scrawny young man. Danse deposited them both at the grate leading across the entrance of the Vault,

"You were told not to _bother―"_ he began.

MacCready was up on his feet first, while the woman stared glumly into the darkness and remained in a slumped sitting position on the metal. "You said _we_ shouldn't come check on her," the man said, brushing off his coat. "So why are _you_ up here?"

"Knight Ruiz is my subordinate," he said, coolly. "When she has a problem, so do _I."_

"Just because you're her _boss―"_ MacCready huffed. "She needs more than a _pep talk,_ Danse!"

Danse stared the man down. MacCready looked away, muttering something under his breath. "If you honestly wish for Ruiz to do _better,"_ Danse said, "then you would do well to let me handle it."

"Blue's so _sad,"_ Piper whispered. "I... didn't see _that,_ before." She sighed, rubbed her nose, and looked at the floor. "We have to _do_ something. _She's..._ We _have_ to."

"I _am_ doing something." Danse stared at her, now. "I am removing a distracting element so that I might have a private talk with my sister in the Brotherhood. A friend in arms, whom I value very much."

Piper nodded, looking up at them. "I guess... Yeah, that _could_ work."

MacCready scoffed, rolling his eyes. "This is _exactly_ what I meant," he snapped, glaring at the soldier. "A dam―a pep talk isn't gonna _fix_ anything!"

Danse turned his attention back to the man. "What would _you_ suggest?" he asked, frowning. "What good could your cavalier attitude do for someone in such a deep depression?"

MacCready straightened his collar, turned to the side, and stared off into the Vault. "I lost my _wife,_ thank you very much," he said, angrily. "I know more about how she feels, than you would, anyway!"

Piper glanced up at him, blinking in surprise, and Danse narrowed his eyes at the man. "And you think you can negate this fugue through shared grief?"

"I intend to _try,"_ MacCready said, striding off into the Vault.

 _"I_ think he's got the right tack," Piper said, looking up at Danse. "I mean... he knows how it feels, at _least."_

"If he makes this worse, I'll shoot him," Danse retorted. "Come on, civilian. We'll let them have privacy."


	2. The Vault

_"Hello, beautiful."_

Ruby had her eyes closed to the world, to everything around her. It wasn't _worth_ it, to get up, to have to deal with all these _people..._ people who _needed_ her. Needed _her_ to be strong. But she _couldn't._ Because she _wasn't._

She could barely open her eyes and see who was _talking_ to her.

MacCready was sitting on the floor next to her, looking down at her, smiling. "Hey."

 _"Go away,"_ she whispered, and closed her eyes again.

"I can't," he said, sighing through his nose. "That murderous Paladin of yours is going to hurt me if I don't make you feel better." He rubbed his nose. "Think he might, anyway."

Ruby opened her eyes and stared at him, tiredly. " 'Snot _my_ Paladin," she mumbled. Her fingers went to her wedding ring again, twirling it around her finger.

"I dunno," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "I figured you two were real close, acting like he does."

"Not _that_ close," she said, staring at the gold band, watching the light catch it.

"Guess I need to re-tune my radar, then." MacCready sat back and put his elbow on an upraised knee, leaning onto it. "You're in the dumps right now, _huh?"_

Ruby groaned, weakly. "Go _away,_ MacCready."

"Nope." He laughed a little, nervously. "C'mon. Least you could do is _talk_ to me."

"Why?" she asked, her voice tortured. "I just―I _want_ to be _alone."_

MacCready patted her shoulder with one hand, leaning forward over her. "I know how _bad_ it hurts," he said, seriously. _"And_ I know you can pull through. Losing someone... _hurts like hell._ It's not fatal. Won't kill you. I _promise."_

"It hurts too _much,"_ she mumbled. "I might die."

"Yeah, I know _that_ feeling, too," he said, his voice strained. "C'mon. Sit up and talk with me. It'll be okay."

"I _don't―"_ she groaned, feeling the chill of the floor.

"You're not gonna get anything other than cold, like this. Catch your death just from this place. Not from _grief."_

She sighed, barely able to draw a breath to do so. _"I miss them,"_ she mumbled. "I lost _Nate,_ I lost _Shaun―"_ she choked up and started crying again. "I lost Shaun _on purpose―"_

MacCready rubbed her shoulder, then reached out and pulled her to an upright position on the floor. He held her up in the air, her knees brushing the cool metal, and lowered her, gently. Leaned forward and stared at her under the Minuteman hat, tilting his head to meet her eyes.

"I told you about Duncan, _yeah?"_ he said, softly. "My son?"

Ruby raised a head to wipe her face. "Yeah," she said, still crying. "But _you―"_ She sniffled, pressing the palm of her hands into her eyes. MacCready hadn't lost his son like she had―Duncan was safe, and he'd gotten that cure, and he would grow up and MacCready could go back to him anytime he wanted―

 _"You―"_ she sputtered, through the tears. "You were _there_ for him―"

"I had to _leave_ him, though. Somewhere safe, to go after his cure," MacCready said, removing his hands from her. "After... after you _helped_ me get that..." he shook his head. "I coulda bailed on you. Gone _home,_ been with him. I didn't."

"You _sh-should,"_ she moaned. MacCready scoffed, and ran a hand along her hair. "You _should_ go home," Ruby said, more strongly. "You don't need to b-be _here―"_

 _"I_ think I do," he said, quietly. "I think _you_ need me, more than Duncan does, right now."

"N-no," she sobbed out, wiping her eyes and blearily looking up at him. "I'm― _I'm okay._ You can _g-go."_

"You're _not_ okay," he replied, sighing. _"This_ is not okay. You're a da―You're a mess, Ruby."

"I'm f-f-fine," she insisted, shuddering with held sobs.

"Heh," he said, moving a little closer and wrapping his arm around her. "You're a _liar,_ too."

Ruby swallowed over the lump in her throat, pushing past the pain and tears. "Let me go," she said, pushing against his armor. "Ow! _Ow_ ―let me go―"

MacCready loosed his grip, but didn't take his hand from her shoulders. "I lost Lucy, you know. My _wife."_

She swallowed again, harder this time. The lump wouldn't go away―

"I lost her because I was _stupid."_

Ruby looked up at him and wiped her nose, turning her hands over and wiping the snot off onto MacCready's coat. He didn't say a word, just kept looking her right in the eyes. His were sad, tears in the corners.

"I lost her because I led her and Duncan where I _shouldn't_ have," he said, intensely. "Down into a Metro full of ferals―and... before I knew it, we were overrun―and..." he sighed, looking away. "I grabbed Duncan and I ran. I... _left_ her."

Ruby sniffled a little, blinking slowly. He must... he would feel like _shit_ after that. She knew how that felt. She _was_ shit after what she'd done... after letting her emotions get the better of her, and _losing Shaun―_

She was jarred out of the thought by how vulnerable MacCready sounded, next. "I know what you want to say," he muttered. "How could I _do_ that. _How could I―"_

"But... you _saved_ him," she interrupted, looking down. "That's... good. The _right_ thing to do. And he's alive."

"Some days I wish _I_ wasn't," MacCready said, lowering his arm. He looked miserable.

Ruby breathed out, calming herself. Still―her heart _still_ wrenched in her chest, for Nate, for Shaun―she still _hurt._ But... it was _fading,_ now.

Which is what it _would_ have done, if no one had bothered her. She would have come back down and been back to normal. For a _time._ MacCready... distracted her, made her stop focusing on the _pain._ She wished he would leave her alone―but... he was here, and he was _right,_ talking about it was helping. She tried to push her thoughts into a more coherent order.

"Everyone needs me to be _strong,"_ she said, slowly. "...I don't know if I _can."_

"You can be a blubbery _mess_ if you want," he replied, sounding more like himself. "I know _I'd_ like to be, sometimes."

"Why _a-aren't_ you?" she said, her voice catching in her throat. "You d-deserve to be, after _that―"_ She stared up at him, feeling the coldness on her face from the tears. _So cold._

"Doesn't look as nice, a _guy_ crying," he said, one side of his mouth curling up. Moved a hand to her cheek then dropped it, hesitating. He sighed, and his smile faded. "I can't cry like that, is all. No one wants to see _that."_

Ruby ran a hand over her eye and moved her hair out of her face, and dropped her hands onto her thighs, staring into the room. She was so tired... worn out. Being a blubbery mess, like he'd put it, drained the life out of her. And it was... it was so _cold_ in the cryo-pod room. She shivered a little, looking away from Nate's body.

 _Nate._ Who went to sleep and woke up to _being shot and Shaun being stolen from him._

Ruby blinked and swallowed, a lump in her throat rising up and trying to pop out. Another sob rocketed through her.

"He's very handsome," MacCready said, leaning back a little. "Lucky guy, to have _you_ for as long as he did. Wish I were that lucky."

The floodgate broke and her hands flew to her face, curling in on herself. She bawled like a baby, uncontrollably. MacCready's arm moved around her shoulder and held her tightly, his other hand sneaking up under her and prying a hand off of her face. He wrapped long fingers around hers and held her without letting go, _until―_

Ruby threw herself onto his shoulder and cried, rubbing her face into the coarse fabric and gasping for breath. MacCready held her hand against his opposite shoulder and tucked his chin around the back of her head, breathing out onto her neck.

It was too _much_ ―she couldn't― _she couldn't do it._ She'd _promised_ she would find Shaun―and she _did,_ but she'd―

Felt like she was going to fall apart, like she would just break into a thousand pieces and roll under the cryo-pods and _never_ be found. Her hand scrabbled for purchase against his shoulder, slipping and causing her to slide backward a little. His free hand found and clasped over her fingers, pulling her closer―

"I got you," he said. "It's alright. _I got you, Ruby."_

She didn't know _what to do―_

Where was the smooth-talking prosecutor from way back _when?_ The woman who never let _anything_ get her down, who'd gone to school and finished it, who'd missed Nate so badly, while he was out on the front lines, who worried for him every moment of every day but could not― _would not_ ―give up on her _own_ dreams?

And when he came home and _she_ started talking family― _she_ was the one who talked him into it― _she_ was the confident one. All he had to do was _be there,_ for her and for the baby, and he _had._

And now... he _wasn't,_ anymore. He wasn't _there._

 _That was it._ Nate was _gone_ and he was her backbone. Without her backbone she was _jelly,_ melting into her shoes―

"It's just a little paperwork, hon. It's worth it for the peace of mind, isn't it?"

 _"Anything's_ _worth it, for you and Shaun."_

* * *

MacCready adjusted his legs under her, moving a knee out and kicking out a leg. Ruby was pretty heavy, and she'd passed out or something. Didn't blame her, the way she was carrying on. But she'd pretty much attached herself to his shoulder and he couldn't get her fingers to uncurl from his.

Locked and entwined into his hand, and her wedding ring was digging into his fingers, reminding him of Lucy and her funny ways. How _she'd_ held him. She'd given him... the soldier... He still had it, wrapped up real careful, like. And _Ruby_ had her wedding ring.

MacCready looked up at the man in the pod, squinting through the strands of blond hair attached to his nose. Dark-haired guy, wearing the Vault 111 suit. He'd never seen Ruby in hers. Was willing to bet she pulled it off almost as good as this guy did. As Nate did.

He didn't have a ring on. Maybe Ruby took it off of him, for some reason. To remember him by, or something... it was why _he'd_ never been able to part with Lucy's soldier.

He'd told so _many_ lies. Lucy never found out. He _should_ have told her.

 _Too many_ _lies._ Not anymore, though. Not after Lucy died, not after he'd _promised_ to do better. Promised Duncan he'd make himself a _better_ person, for him.

He felt how warm Ruby's hands were, on his own. She said she'd lost Shaun _on purpose._ He wondered what that meant, why she would put it that way. From what he'd found out, she'd been frozen up in the pod and watched Nate die and her son was ripped from his hands. She'd watched someone kill the person she loved _most_ in the world―

He sighed. Yeah, he _knew_ that feeling.

And she'd watched her child, a helpless _baby,_ taken away by a _real_ boogeyman. When she'd gotten into the Institute... she came back to Sanctuary Hills, after that, he remembered seeing how dazed she looked. Seemed like all this had gotten so much _worse,_ since then.

Ruby didn't drink or do chems. She didn't have a way to ignore the pain. She'd worked hard down in the settlement and put up house after house, and taken him out to go collect more scrap for the place.

 _He_ didn't complain. No one wanted to hear him whining, anyway. He liked being out in the wastes with Ruby, even if she barely talked to him. He was better out _there,_ than in town. Better on the move. Didn't have to think when he was on his feet.

Hell― _Heck,_ he didn't even know if she'd managed to _find_ Shaun in the Institute. She'd never said a word about it. ...Maybe something real _horrible_ happened to her in there, and she couldn't tell anyone. Maybe she couldn't tell, because she would die inside all over again. _He_ felt that way, sometimes.

MacCready moved her away from his chest, a little. She jerked and clutched at his hands tighter, her face mashed sideways into his grimy coat. Wet strands of hair stuck to her face, her cheek squished into him.

It felt _great_ to hold someone again, but Ruby wasn't letting him hold her. _She_ was holding onto _him,_ for dear life. And she wasn't gonna let go for a long, _long_ time.

Well, he _hoped._

MacCready smiled and closed his eyes.

* * *

Danse returned to the Vault after a while, and found the impertinent civilian wrapped up in an embarrassing display with Ruiz. He approached without caution, intending for them to understand they were no longer alone, but nothing came of it. Ruiz had her face pressed against MacCready's shoulder and he was leaning his cheek onto her hair, breathing evenly.

"I know, _I know,"_ MacCready said, when Danse got closer. "Man, she's got a _heck_ of a grip."

"Has her manner improved?" Danse asked, looking down onto their heads.

"Not sure, but I think my leg is going to sleep. Help me out, she's like a _dam_ ―like a dang deathclaw over here," MacCready breathed, laughing a little. "Razor sharp claws and _all._ I'm not getting away easy."

Danse waited for the man to stand up, awkwardly, and grabbed out at Ruiz as she nearly fell from his grip. MacCready stumbled away, hopping on one leg and muttering about needles. Danse held Ruiz in both arms, her prone figure limp across his armor. Looked down at her for a moment, concerned.

"Is she asleep, or _unconscious?"_ he asked, frowning.

MacCready limped back over and rolled his shoulders around. "I thought she was asleep, but she hasn't woken up." He went to touch her, but Danse pushed past him, carrying her toward the Vault door.

"I think you've done _plenty,_ for now," he said, pointedly, as the young man trailed after him. "I will handle it from here."

"Sheesh, don't act like I'm the bad guy or something," MacCready whined. Danse shook his head at the man.

"I don't _know_ you well enough, civilian," he said, his voice cold, "to assume you mean _no_ harm."

"Don't trust me, that's _fine,"_ MacCready muttered.

"As a matter of _fact―"_ Danse stopped short, turning to the man. Ruiz hadn't moved the entire time he was walking through the Vault, and her arm twitched a little as he adjusted her for better grip. "I _don't_ trust you. I don't make it a habit to trust people who won't take _important_ matters seriously."

"Well, that's not _fair,"_ the man protested. "I just had a very serious conversation with Ruby―"

Danse turned and walked across the grate to the door of the Vault. "That remains to be seen," he said, calmly.

MacCready rode the elevator up to the surface with him but left his side at the top, taking off toward the settlement, over the rocks. Danse looked down at Ruiz again, adjusted his grip, and slowly walked down through the path. He had time. Ruiz needed to come to before they reached the settlement. Wouldn't do to have to carry her in, and having all the settlers seeing her in a faint.

Needed to be more _firm_ than that. If she showed weakness―like that of the breakdown in the Vault―she would be discredited in the eyes of these people. If they thought she wasn't strong enough to mind their problems on top of her own, the Minutemen would _fail._

And she would not make a very good soldier, if she weren't mentally stable. He had seen her with such _strength,_ before. Dealing with Paladin Brandis, talking him into rejoining the Brotherhood. Where the man _belonged,_ and where he would be treated with dignity and respect, despite his isolation and the grief that caused him such imbalance.

Where had all that strength gone? He sighed, and looked down at her. She was stirring to wakefulness. He stopped on the path, and waited for her to come around.

 _"Wha?"_ she said, and grabbed ahold of his armor at the seam, blinking in confusion.

"You passed out," Danse said, lowering her gently. "MacCready left, and I was taking you to Sanctuary Hills."

"He―He _left?"_ she asked, sounding hurt.

"He passed you to me, so that I could convey you home," Danse clarified.

"Oh," Ruiz said, rubbing her eyes. _"Oh._ I... God, I'm _sorry,_ Danse," she added, frowning and looking up at him. "I shouldn't have acted like that..."

"You appear no worse for it," he replied, staring at her. "However... if you are going to continue to have problems such as that, I _will_ have to report you to Elder Maxson."

Ruiz stared at him for a brief second before turning about and starting down the path. "It almost feels like you have no heart, Danse," she said, very quietly. "If I hadn't spoken with you about Scribe Haylen, I might _believe_ it."

"That's not fair," he said, moving to keep pace with her. The very same sentiment that _MacCready_ had voiced. Perhaps his judgement of the man was in error; at least pertaining to this particular incident. "I attempted to... make _amends,_ before MacCready stepped in. He explained he would be able to perform your consolation better."

"Because you aren't that good at talking to people," Ruiz said, turning slightly. She sighed. "I know that, Danse. Don't get _jealous,_ or something."

"I am not jealous. _That's―"_ he blinked and breathed out through his nose, stopping himself from saying something that would probably only be more embarrassing. "A good officer knows which soldier is best for the job," he said, trying not to sound annoyed. At himself. He was _terrible_ at this... hemming and hawing.

Ruiz actually smiled and stopped on the path, turning and placing a hand on his gloves. "That is a very nice way to put it," she said, looking relieved. _"Thank_ you, Danse. For letting MacCready talk to me."

"You are welcome, Knight." He turned his head and looked at the settlement, away from her. "You are well, then? Not feeling as depressed as before?"

"I feel a little better." She dropped her hand to the side. "It's... it's not an _easy_ fix." Her face grew sorrowful. He wished he had not brought the matter to light.

"If you need to speak to anyone, be it known that I _will_ be there," he said, quickly. "I am your sponsor, and it would be well for us to develop a rapport."

"I appreciate that," she murmured, turning back to the path and taking a few steps. "Thank you."

"And... I feel that we've had _valued_ conversation before," he ventured, trying a idea.

Ruiz stopped and lowered her foot onto the ground. She turned back to him slowly, her face set into a funny smile with her eyebrows drawn together. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" she asked, smiling wider but drawing her brows further in.

"I enjoy being able to speak you in a manner other than a superior to his soldiers," Danse said. Hoped he had not put his foot into his mouth, again. "As... a _friend."_

"I do, too," she said, and she sighed. "I promise I'll try to do better, okay? No more... _freak outs."_

"Good," he said, nodding. "Good." Didn't know what else to say. _I hope that is adequate―_

"You have to do _better,_ too," she said, pointedly, moving down the path again. "People will start thinking you're a synth, or something."

"That is _not_ something to make light of," he said, disapprovingly.

Ruiz laughed, under her breath. "Yeah, I know," she said, painfully.

Danse followed her to the settlement in silence, wondering. About Ruiz and her breakdown... and her apparent recovery. About his own feelings on the matter, and how he could negate the issue, if it were to happen again.

He felt it would be better if _he_ were the one to deal with her problems. Even if he were not her sponsor. Why, he could not say. Perhaps he felt something _other_ than Brotherhood kinship with her.

That... would not be so terrible, _would_ it?

Danse smiled to himself, walking behind her toward Sanctuary Hills.


	3. Nate

Note: More practice. Danse is fun to write. Not so sure on MacCready. Working on backstory. Feeling sick still

 _someone_ asked for more :)

* * *

"This is where I met him."

Danse turned his head to look at Ruiz, raising an eyebrow. _"Him?"_ he asked, frowning.

"Nate," she said.

Danse's hands tightened on his minigun. Ruiz had elected to take him into the wasteland, instead of her more regular scrap run partner. MacCready had been passed up, much to his dismay. He'd complained about being stuck weeding for another week, loudly, until Ruiz walked away.

She was standing in front of Cambridge Polymer Labs, as where she had paused to examine her Pip-Boy and then immediately stared at the building for five minutes straight. He'd been determining what to say to her, when she mentioned Nate.

Ruiz examined the building with a blank expression on her face, her 10mm pistol in one hand and the other shading her eyes. She was quiet for a long time, her lips slowly pressing together and her knuckles gradually turning white on the grip.

He couldn't think of the appropriate response. Should he... be interested? Ask her questions about the lab? Or should he try to divert her attention away from the subject of her husband? She was obviously upset by her thoughts. ...Should he ignore the topic altogether and discuss military maneuvers?

Ruiz would say what she wanted, regardless of what he might. Her willingness was something that he enjoyed; he didn't have to provide much for her to take control of their social interactions. It was entirely gratifying not to need to speak, especially when he never knew what to say.

She was destined for authority. Always had been, he expected. Under his own recommendation, Elder Maxson had immediately promoted her to Knight. Someday, she might outrank even the Paladins. He would be _proud_ to serve under Ruiz.

 _If_ she could work through this depression with that same force of will, of which, he knew she was capable. Since her troubles in the Vault, that front had been quiet. The battle was over, but the war not _yet_ won.

His own ineptitude at dealing with emotions, though... Danse felt the uncomfortable pressure in his gloves as his hands tightened more, power armor plating scraping against the rubber. He was not an emotional person, by nature. Shamefully, he wished for the local threat to become pressing, so that this conversation would be over more quickly. Physical violence was the only response he knew how to _reliably_ handle.

He was not a _coward._ He told himself that. He was simply... ignorant of the sentiment a wife would feel for a lost husband. That was _all._ It confused him.

"My father worked here, before the War," she said.

Danse watched her head tilt up and saw her throat bobbing. Was it crass of him to want that they should have this conversation somewhere else? He wasn't sure. Being out in the open wasn't the issue, but if their attention was diverted from careful watch...

To allow themselves to lose face via inadequate combat readiness was _not_ tolerable.

"Hmm," he said, trying to apply himself to the effort. Still felt wrong, though. He grimaced.

Ruiz smiled, and looked back at him. "I wasn't supposed to be here, that day," she said, moving across the rubble. "I was supposed to be sick at home, but mom wasn't around, so..." She shrugged. "I walked up to the lab here and waited outside for him to go on lunch."

"How old were you?" he asked. She seemed determined to speak with him, and though he was grateful that she was discussing the issue with him... he wasn't prepared for it. He'd told her he would listen. And... well, as much as she needed support, _he_ needed the practice.

It was not pleasant to think he was weakened by this. They had discussed as much, before. His inability to speak as freely as others might.

"Sixteen," she said, moving and sitting onto a bench. "I came down here and I was watching people while I waited." She rubbed her eye and smiled with half of her mouth. "Nate was a private, then. He'd driven down to deliver some power armor parts for testing, from... I think it was Fort Hagen?" She frowned in concentration.

Danse kept his eyes on Ruiz, but couldn't think of what to say. "There was some kind of paperwork," she went on, "but he was only supposed to drive the truck, so he came over and talked with me until it was sorted."

She had a smile on her face that Danse considered pleasant. He moved to the side of the bench and glanced about for any threat, then stared down at her. Seeing her face lit up with that smile was a good deal more preferable to her red-eyed weeping in the past.

"Paperwork," he said, "is the bane of many a soldier."

"I guess it was fate," she said, her smile disappearing. "He just... felt _right."_

He had felt that way about Cutler; to find someone that one belonged with, was not _easy._ Danse turned slightly, looking up at the Lab. And to have it ripped from one's very hands, without one's control, made one feel _utterly_ helpless.

Her smile disappearing made him wonder if his comment was not the right one to make. He did not enjoy that. She appeared to have ignored him entirely.

"Nate had the most _handsome_ smile..." She sighed and leaned back on the bench. "My father hated him, of course, but he hated everyone." She waved a hand at the building. "I think he would have rather I went off to be a nun than a lawyer."

She'd lost him, at this point. His knowledge of Pre-War culture was not sufficient to give him understanding. "That is what fathers are best at," he said, instead. "Caring for their children, and wanting the best for them."

Ruiz laughed, slapping her knee. "Oh, man," she said, and rubbed her face with one hand, covering it. "I―" she started giggling. "I'm _sorry,_ Danse, I am―"

He watched her dissolving into laughter, frowning. "I did not realize I was so _entertaining,"_ he said, a little too sternly. Glad that she was smiling and laughing, but not at his expense.

 _"N-no,"_ she said, "it's not th-that!" Ruiz stopped laughing after a minute or two, slowly tapering off. "It's just, if I were a nun, I would be dead. Wouldn't have gotten married or even _had_ Sh―" Her eyes closed, and she went still.

He _wasn't_ a coward, he told himself. Her words made him uncomfortable, and he simply didn't know how to handle it.

"Everything will work out for the best, I'm sure," he said. She barely moved, sitting on the bench. He wasn't sure that she had heard him.

"Maybe things would have been better if I was a nun," she murmured, after a long minute or two.

"You will have to tell me about that, at a later point," Danse said, looking out into the surrounding buildings. "This is _not_ an area conducive to private education."

Ruiz looked up, sharply, turning her head and scanning the area. Nothing was out there, of course. She turned back to him with a frown. One eye squinted against the glare of the sun setting over Cambridge, her hat tilted upward on a bed of golden curls. "Are you trying to get out of talking?" she asked, after a moment of scrutinizing him.

"I don't know much about Pre-War culture," he stated, staring at her. The setting sun cast a shadow over her face and made her green eyes look black. "I am sorry."

Ruiz's face flushed slightly, and she looked away. "No, it's― _I'm_ the one who should be sorry, Danse. Wasn't trying to make you feel bad. I didn't _think."_

There was an awkward silence. Ruiz leaned forward and put her hands on her knees, looking past him at the building again. After a moment she stood, and checked her weapon. "Let's keep going," she said, turning away from the labs.

"It is well that we remove ourselves from the area," Danse said, watching her. "The ghoul threat is still present, even with Brotherhood soldiers at the police station. I do not understand their numbers, but..." He breathed out through his nose. "It is what it is, and we must be mindful."

"Yeah," she agreed, and started away from the building. "Thanks for listening to me, Danse."

"You are welcome, Knight Ruiz," he replied, following her carefully through the rubble.

* * *

"Oh, my God, and the _smell―"_ MacCready covered his face with a bandana, squeezing his eyes shut and drawing his eyebrows together. He jerked his foot backward and tried not to look at what he'd almost stepped in.

"Quiet," Ruby said, frowning at him.

"How can you even _breathe_ in here," he muttered, opening his eyes just a touch and staring at her. Ruby was sorting through a desk surrounded by a pile of... well, _whatever_ it was it, was best left _unsaid._ The smell alone was enough to send his imagination into overdrive.

"It's not that bad," she murmured, and pulled a drawer open, balancing herself on the tilted floor. Various groans and alarming creaking noises came from beneath them, the Natick Banks some twenty feet below. MacCready's hands went out in a jerk, catching a corner of a wall.

"This is the _worst_ smell I've ever smelled," he groaned, placing his feet and turning away from her.

Ruby turned her head and glanced at him, then closed the desk drawer and shoved various tools into her pack. Very little salvage was left in the falling building, mostly cigarettes and loose folders.

Man, he was just glad she'd actually taken him out this time. Felt like she'd been _ignoring_ him, and he couldn't say why. After he'd talked to her inside the Vault―

He pushed the thought from his mind. Was enough to keep him up, thinking about her clinging to him like she had.

 _Dam_ ―Dangit, he was lonely. _Too_ lonely.

Piper and Hancock were homebodies, able to bum around the Hills or go back to their respective jobs if they wanted. Garvey was important to the Hills as her 2IC for the Minutemen. Even if he wasn't in town because of business at the Castle, he'd never gone out with Ruby. That left MacCready, the dog, the robot, and that mountain of metal and hot grease that had _no_ business clanking about the place.

Danse didn't like him. Yeah, so _what?_ He didn't see a reason to be all that fond of the Paladin, either. _Merc versus Herc._ He might not have much _going_ for him, but his astounding talent for gunnery―he grinned a little. And his pretty _face._

At least he wasn't as uptight as Danse. _Like to see Danse without that shell of his,_ he thought. He snorted at that. Hiding behind all that armor like he was scared to let the wasteland take a crack at him. Upholding all that huff and puff the Brotherhood liked to call their creed.

MacCready held up his .44, toeing a lump on the floor. Natick Banks had some seriously nasty mold or something, growing around it. Almost made him wish he was back at Sanctuary Hills, dealing with toliet overflows and the mess that always happened after he ate too much Mutfruit.

The lump quivered as he nudged it with his foot, glowing slightly in the center. He shook his foot and whatever it was, stayed on his boot. Looked like it was moving! He kicked out and stomped onto the tile, eyes open in surprise.

 _"Da―"_ he started, spitting out the word. _"Ugh!"_

"Shh," Ruby cautioned. She'd gone still when he wasn't looking, her hands flat on the desk and her eyes on something in the distance, over the bank. He turned and held out his pistol, balancing himself and waiting.

"Do you hear?" she whispered, turning her head slightly to him.

He shook his head, and moved forward a few inches on the tilting floor. The tiles creaked under his boots. _I oughta lay off the Mutfruit anyway,_ he thought. _Getting heavy. Won't be able to keep my trim figure―_

His mouth tugged up in a smile. Man, he wished Ruby was _easier_ to judge, sometimes. She spoke so firmly and shut him down so often he wasn't even sure if she liked him, most of the time. If he knew where he sat with her, he'd feel better about _complaining_ so much. Might actually joke like that, aloud.

If he didn't think it might cause her to stop hanging out with him, anyway. God, she was so _hard_ to get a feel for. He really wished she would open up a little more, like she had that day at the Vault―

His fingers twitched on the .44, and he looked to the side, fighting the memory. It bothered him more than he liked to admit.

"It's gone," she muttered, picking her hands up and moving to the side.

"What was it, anyway?" he asked, spreading his feet and taking a wide step over the edge of the floor onto a desk.

Ruby shook her head, watching him move onto the lower floor, eyeing the distance. MacCready turned as she moved a leg off the broken tiles and put her heel into the brown sludge. He swore out loud and moved forward―she slid on the goop, landing on her back and skidded toward the lower floor―

She landed on his shoulder and cheek, smearing a glob of that crap onto his neck, knocking him down onto his ass and making the whole place shudder with the impact. MacCready grunted in pain, his cheek twinging from being assaulted. Ruby was in his lap, stunned but otherwise unhurt, blinking rapidly.

"Did you _have_ to land butt-first?" he groaned. _"Ow!"_

"Why the hell did you _catch_ me?" she groaned, putting a hand out and pushing herself upward. "You're lucky I didn't _kick you in the head!"_

"Excuse _me!"_ he replied, moving his head as she bent over to stand up. "I was trying to help!"

"I can _handle myself,_ thank you very much," she said, glaring at him.

"Ugh," he grunted, wiping his neck before he stood up. "Great, now I'll smell like as―" He threw the bandana down and gagged a little. "I don't even want to _say_ what that smells like, it's so bad."

"Whatever." Ruby rubbed her hip and frowned. "Next time, just let me get hurt."

"What, and miss out?" His mouth twitched in a half-smile. "Ladies _don't_ just fall into your lap, every day."

She scoffed, moving away from him. "Don't know where your attitude is coming from," she grumbled.

"I told you before." MacCready crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. "I won't let you down. _I got you,_ Ruby."

She colored, turned away in a flounce, and moved across the floor. Muttered something under her breath as she damn near ran out of the building. MacCready suppressed a grin, jumping out of the building and catching up with her.

"What? What did I say?" he asked, pulling his hat down over his eyes and trying to look smooth.

"Nothing," she said, her cheeks still flushed with color.

 _"Nothing,"_ he repeated, knowingly, tilting his head at her and grinning.

"MacCready," she groaned, "just _drop_ it."

"I can't just ignore it!" he protested, keeping up with her short steps easily. "I'm on a roll, today. At least gimme something―tell me how I'm _doing!"_

"Do you _want_ to go home?" she asked him, pointedly, turning and facing him with a hard look on her face. She put her hands on her hips and stared him down.

"What, back to the Hills where no one wants me around and I bi―complain too much for Garvey's comfort?" He snorted. "No, _thank_ you."

"Then _drop_ it," she said, stepping onto the asphalt. "And Garvey is right, you _do_ complain too much."

"Fine, fine," he moaned, stretching his arms up behind his head and walking along behind her. "So, where we going now?"

"Northeast," she said, pointing across the Banks and off into the distance. "Lexington."


	4. Shaun

Note: No guarantees on how I did Hancock. I haven't had the time to invest in him, just yet, not when Danse and MacCready are such horribly easy targets.

* * *

"Ow!" She jerked her hand back, shoving her thumb into her mouth and staring down at the connector she'd just placed. The wire hit the asphalt and was immediately picked up by Garvey, holding it with his thick gloves as if it wasn't electrified.

Ruby blinked and sighed. "Probably should connect it from the cold part," she told herself.

"That's a good idea," Garvey said. He moved to the connector and attached the wire quickly. "Man, you should've seen the burn Mama Murphy got when she tried to set up her own power, back in Quincy. She says all those chems must've saved her life, _that_ day."

Ruby sat back on her heels and pushed herself to a stand, her eyes traveling up the wire to the generator between the houses. "I can imagine," she said, rubbing her thumb on her chest. "Don't think I was cut out to be an electrician."

"Here," Garvey said, handing her a pair of gloves. She pulled them on and thanked him. "Have you seen the bar, yet? Got it finished yesterday," he said, picking up his musket and nodding in the direction of the building. "Sturges rigged up some kind of sign for the settlers. It's... it's _something._ Really have to check it out."

"I don't drink," Ruby murmured, her eyes on his collar.

"All the same, ma'am," he smiled. "Most folk go to relax. Sit down and talk. That sort of thing."

Ruby sighed and scratched her head. "I don't need to relax, Preston. I just need to―" She looked up at the house. "I just need _sleep."_

"Knight Ruiz?"

Ruby jerked a little, involuntarily. "God, you scared the _shit_ out of me―"

"Apologies," Danse said. He stared down at her when she turned to face him, his face thoughtful.

Garvey nodded at Danse, and walked off to resume his patrol. "Goodnight, General. Paladin. Take it easy, okay, ma'am?"

"Goodnight, Preston," she said, then looked up at Danse.

"If you are unaware that I am approaching, you must have something _truly_ heavy on your mind," he said, gently.

"No, just..." she blinked away sleep. "Weary. Today was a _long_ day."

"That it was," he nodded. "Garvey's patrol found bloodbugs on the west bank. It took a good deal of searching the area to find out where they'd come from."

Ruby nodded, vaguely. She stared at the connector with the new wire attached, thinking about electricity again. If she could just have five minutes to herself, she could have the place ready and find a bed to sleep in...

"You're _exhausted,_ soldier," Danse said, his deep voice overpowering her thoughts.

"...I know." She moved toward the house, locating the other connector, and attached a wire to it. Ran the wire down to the other connector on the ground, minding her fingers even with gloves.

"If you keep up this pace, you are going to injure yourself," Danse said, watching her. "Lack of sleep and live wires do not mix well."

Ruby's hands paused for a moment― _then_ ―she snapped. Too many people telling her what she _ought_ to be doing, what she _needed_ to do, what they _wanted_ her to do―

 _It really was too much._

"Well, I'm sorry, _Danse,"_ she snapped, "but you people seem to _need_ someone to hold your goddamn _hand_ around here." Her hands fixed the wire into place, roughly. "And if it's not _me,_ then I don't _know who it's going to be!"_

He blinked, eyebrows raised. "I... understand that your temper is frayed," he said, shortly. "That you are experiencing difficulty. You―"

"You _don't_ understand," she growled, moving inside of the house and looking at the ceiling. Dammit, she was going to have to do roof work―and she didn't think that was a smart idea, _right now―_

"You _can't_ understand." Her hands clenched into fists.

"Perhaps if you explained, then?" he said, following her inside. "I cannot read your mind. If you need to speak, then _speak."_

"Speak?" she scoffed. "I could talk until my _face_ was blue and none of these _idiots_ would _listen!"_ Ruby pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and breathing out. "Danse, all I really― _really!_ ―want, is _these people―and_ _you people!_ ―to _leave me the hell alone!"_

He was silent for a moment. Ruby fought the pressure in her head, the need to cry and let it out rising. Danse cleared his throat and stared at her, opening his mouth to speak.

"Ruiz," he began, sounding as gentle as he ever had, "I don't think―"

"Just _go away,"_ she mumbled, covering her eyes. "Just―let me _be."_

"So you can collapse into tears again?" he asked, more harshly. "Putting yourself into a disadvantaged state is not a solution. It will only cause _more_ problems."

Ruby gasped out, hiding the sob, turning away from him. _"Dammit, I just need―"_

"Listen," Danse said, moving up behind her and putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. "You are hiding from a problem that you would have been able to face down, not too long ago. Why?"

Right to business, as always. Danse understood a threat, even an emotional one, better than he thought. But she couldn't _say_ ―well, he _wouldn't_ understand, he didn't have―Danse wasn't a _parent,_ or a _spouse_ ―and her problem was _Shaun―_

His particular manner of speech didn't exactly make him appear sympathetic. With his way of dealing with problems... God, she'd probably get a better reaction out of _Dogmeat._ At least the dog didn't judge her if she needed to cry. He'd just _love_ her.

But even a dog didn't seem _that_ attached to her, now. Now that the world had ended.

"It's not a concern," she said, as firmly as she could. Her voice still wavered slightly, but she managed to keep herself from losing it right in front of the Paladin. "I'll deal with it in my own way. And I don't _appreciate_ you bringing it up. It doesn't involve _you."_

"If it is related to your visit to the Institute," he said, disapprovingly, "then it _is_ a concern, and it _does_ involve me. Being a part of the Brotherhood, you should have reported it to Elder Maxson―"

 _"Nngh,"_ she moaned, her chest shaking with sobs that wanted out. Tried to ignore him―and failed. Always so strict, never a moment for anything personal unless he wanted to discuss about himself―

"When you returned, you'd been gone for barely fifteen minutes," he said. _"Why?"_

Ruby kept her eyes closed, trying not to remember―but it didn't work. Everything came flooding back. Her trip down the elevator to find that synth in the chamber―the synth _she'd thought was her_ _goddamned son―_

And she'd been made a _fool_ of. Made into a ridiculous spectacle for _Shaun._ So he could _judge_ her actions.

She was so _tired_ of being held accountable. Of shouldering the burdens for others so they could thrive. Tired of being selfless when all she really wanted was to walk off and be alone. No one was there to hold _her_ hand, through this mess. She'd only gotten help from Maxson because she worked for him, and their goals were the same.

Taking from her. _Never_ giving.

"Why, Ruiz?" Danse repeated, watching her carefully.

"Because!" She wiped her nose and let the anger out. "I _found_ my son!" she said, bitterly, opening her eyes and glaring hatefully at the Paladin. "I found him, but he _was not my son!"_

Danse's eyebrow twitched once. He didn't respond at all, only stared at her with a confused face. She shook her head and pushed past him, out of the house. Stomped her way down the asphalt toward the dirt path that led to the Vault, trying to hold in her tears.

She made it as far as the wooden bridge before she fell to her knees and planted her forehead on the ground, her body wracked with sobs.

* * *

"I need to talk to you," the voice came over his head. He had been tilting up his glass, having convinced the bartender to make him a special drink, but paused and turned to see what the Paladin wanted.

"Danse, hey. Sit down, I'll get you something." MacCready gestured at the chair across from him, and tossed back the shot. Shuddered and cringed. If he wasn't already part of the way drunk, that would've _hurt_ going down.

He laughed at himself. Oh, it was gonna hurt coming _out,_ too. Didn't drink it for the _taste._

"No time. I need you to perform damage control," the man said, standing behind him. "Let's go."

"What?" MacCready laughed. "You piss off Ruby or something?" He put the shot glass down and raised an eyebrow at Danse.

"The longer you talk, the _worse_ the problem becomes." Danse put a hand out and hauled him upright without warning.

MacCready stumbled, moving sideways to catch himself. "The _hel―"_ he started, then rubbed his mouth. "What's goin' on?"

"Talk _and_ walk," Danse said, in a threatening manner.

"Alright," MacCready said, more whinier than he'd intended. He cringed again.

Halfway down the street, MacCready felt the shot hitting his stomach and groaned in pain. "Godda―" he winced and held his stomach. "Man, I _knew_ that was a bad idea!"

"I swear to―" Danse sighed, paused for a moment, then did something MacCready didn't think he'd ever do; he began the process of unsealing his power armor.

"What the?" MacCready blinked, staring up at the man as he pulled himself out of his suit and stepped down.

"Go back to the bar, civilian," Danse said, moving away from him.

"Whoa, _wait!"_ MacCready lurched forward and followed him, holding his stomach in pain. "What―why were you so hot on me coming _with,_ if you're just gonna tell me to _go?"_

Danse turned to look at him as he strode away, wearing nothing more than a skin-tight Brotherhood uniform and that cap of his, and shook his head. "In your present condition, you _cannot_ help," he stated, and disappeared around a corner.

MacCready blinked a few times, in confusion. Something― _damn,_ something big was going on, if Danse was letting his suit out for anyone to take. He stared up at the armor for a moment before he followed the Paladin.

It was a short trip. MacCready ducked behind a hedge and watched very carefully through the branches. Danse had knelt onto the footbridge on the path toward the Vault, his hand out and touching Ruby's back. She was curled up on herself, like she had been _that_ day―

Aw, _crap,_ and MacCready had missed the opportunity to help her. How could he have her back if he wasn't watching all the time? And Danse, the most awkward of _awkward_ people in the wasteland, a man who probably wouldn't understand _sympathy_ if it bit him on the ass of his jumpsuit, was stepping in and probably gonna make it worse. Made MacCready's efforts twice as _hard,_ when the man was winding her up and setting her loose on Sanctuary Hills.

He couldn't really go out there and _muscle_ his way in. Shi―shoot, the Paladin wasn't as heavy as he'd thought he'd be, but he still had the physique of a superhero. Something _he'd_ never been able to pull off, because he was too lanky. Always had been a skinny little _shi_ ―kid, which was why he wore the heavy coat―

How could MacCready compare to a super-powered man? In _or_ out of that armor, Danse was more impressive. His hand clenched. His brilliant personality only went so far. He was straight-up _screwed,_ if Danse somehow muddled through this mess.

"Ruiz," Danse was saying, very calmly. "I'm sorry I upset you."

"Go _away,_ Danse," she sobbed, hiding her face. Her words were hard to make out over the distance and the cover.

"I won't leave," the Paladin said. "My words were deliberate and I did not understand that they would wound. I have to..." he sighed. "Make amends."

Ruby muffled something out. "...understand... too _much..._ can't―" MacCready strained to hear her, his hand on his stomach and fighting the urge to vomit. _This_ stress on top of that shot―it was coming up or out in one way or fashion, but he needed to hear this―

The _one_ night in over three months he decided it would be okay to have a drink. He groaned, pressing his mouth together to cover the sound.

"I know what you said," Danse told her, moving his hand from her back. "I didn't understand how... troublesome that would prove. I regret that you were made light of."

 _"_ _―_ _Shaun."_ MacCready pulled his hat down a little and grimaced in pain. She'd told the _Paladin_ something about her kid? Maybe about how she'd found him in the Institute. How come she didn't tell _him?_

Aw, _man,_ he'd gone and put all his troubles onto her. She couldn't tell him about the kid because he'd talked about _his_ life to get her to stop crying. And... Danse wouldn't do that, he might be awkward but he didn't talk a whole lot unless he felt he needed to.

 _Freakin' strong, silent, superhero type,_ MacCready thought. _I'm just a da―dang **sidekick.**_

"Yes," Danse replied, and MacCready blinked. Crap, he'd missed something. "Yes, it's... it is awful. The synths are our enemy now, Ruiz, along with the Institute. You _will_ have a second chance to―"

"I don't _want_ a second chance," she muffled out. "I want―" she sobbed, loudly.

"What are you doing?" a gravelly voice came from behind him, quiet as could be.

MacCready jumped out of his skin, and covered his mouth. Hancock had come up behind him―how did he move so _silent_ in those high heels of his―and was staring at him, then looked at the hedge.

"I'm about to throw up," MacCready said, muffled and whispering.

"Huh," Hancock said, shaking his head. "For a moment there, thought you were watching them two on the bridge. Big Iron having a touching conversation with the missus."

"Yeah, okay, you caught me," MacCready said. "C'mon, Hancock, cut me a break."

"Plan to swoop in once the soldier fucks it up?" the ghoul asked, amused.

"Maybe," MacCready said, spitting to the side. God, he really _might_ throw up.

"Better _go,_ then." Hancock waved a hand out and stared over the edge of the hedge, then lifted his arms and leaned onto it. "I'll keep an eye out."

Didn't much matter, now. Danse would know Hancock was staring at them and he would react accordingly. No matter how much Ruby appreciated Hancock being around to help keep people happy―which, according to her, was something he was excellent at―Danse and the Brotherhood didn't care for ghouls. Probably wouldn't care to have one ogling him while he was trying to get the situation under control.

MacCready sighed through his nose and dashed off to find a bush in a quieter corner.

* * *

"Ruiz," Danse said, holding up a hand and then dropping it. "What _do_ you want?"

"I want _Nate,"_ she muffled, crying loudly.

It didn't make logical sense to him, her crying and pleading for a man who was clearly gone. It was simply not an option; nothing could bring the man back, short of some religious interference―

"Ruiz..." he said, painfully. "I don't und―"

"Man, just _hug_ her already!" Danse's head spun on the hedges, glaring at the ghoul with the ridiculous outfit. Hancock was leaning onto the top of the hedge and smiling in that crafty way he had. "You do know _how_ to, right? No one's _that_ fucking awkward."

"I _would_ appreciate a little privacy," Danse called, threateningly.

"Yeah, alright," Hancock said, removing himself from the hedge. "You don't hug her, though― _I'll_ come down and do it." He wandered off, and Danse made sure he was gone before he returned his attention to Ruiz.

She'd stopped crying, at least. He moved forward by a foot's length, moving his head to the side to see why. He'd been about to screw it up, he was sure, and now... now it was different. _Better,_ perhaps.

"You... took off your armor," she said, blinking away tears.

 _"Well..._ yes."

"Why?"

Danse stopped for a moment. Why _had_ he? ...He supposed it was better to comfort someone when there wasn't a wall of metal between them. Scribe Haylen hadn't had that benefit, and whatever he had done _had_ helped her; he supposed he must have unconsciously thought it was better to be without the suit entirely. Ruiz was a lot more upset than Haylen had been.

He opened his mouth and closed it, unsure how to portray the caution without sounding... well, sounding like the soldier he was, but also shoving his foot into his mouth and swallowing it whole.

"Danse?" she said, putting her hand out and pushing herself up, a little.

"I suppose I felt it was correct to do," he said, in a rush.

Ruiz breathed in and out, deeply. "I suppose," she said, moving up onto her behind and rubbing her forearms. She stared at him for a moment. "You look different."

"It's amazing what difference power armor can provide." He nodded to her. "You, yourself, look pretty _amazing_ in your suit―"

His face felt hot, all of a sudden, and he cleared his throat. Looked away into the darkness that had fallen, and tried not to think. Swallowed a lump in his throat that he was almost certain was his foot.

"...Danse," Ruiz said, looking down at the ground. "I... I need someone to _talk_ to. Not a boss, or a hired gun, or―" she sighed and covered her face, shuddering a little.

"Am I to understand that I do not qualify for that position?" he asked, then bit his tongue. It was all he could do not to let himself fall to ignorant ways. Like the _Gunner_ and his flippant manner.

"I don't know." Ruiz wiped her face and closed her eyes. "Nate's... gone. I can't wish him back, I know that. And..." she stifled a rolling motion, curling her fingers up near her eyes. "No matter what happened with Shaun, I can't go _back―"_

"It helps you understand why it's so important that we deter the synthetic threat," Danse said, firmly. "Even if Shaun acted like he did, you said it yourself... he was _not_ your son."

"I... I guess _not."_

"You cannot guess if you've already made the statement," Danse said, adjusting his position. After spending so long in the armor, his legs were unused to maintaining a kneeling position. "In this case―when you have so many people who _listen_ to your words, you must not make mistakes. And if you _have..."_ He rubbed his knee, switching sides carefully. "Then you make that mistake into a truth. Shaun _is_ no longer your son. He _is_ the enemy, now. Taken from you or _not,_ he is not who he could have been, and you must treat him as he _is."_

"Is it so wrong to wish that he _could_ have stayed with me?" she asked, her voice small and broken.

"Of course not." Danse managed a brief smile. "Children belong with their family, not with the Institute, not with―people such as that man _Kellogg."_

"Kellogg..." Ruiz sighed. "I feel terrible for that."

Danse raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What for?"

"Because," Ruiz said, crossing her legs and staring up at the sky. "He was _set up_ to take that fall. Shaun _must_ have let me out of the Vault. He knew I was going to come for him, one day. And he made Kellogg keep the synth child that looked like Shaun, so he would have that _memory―"_ she paused.

"And so _you_ would find it," Danse said, nodding. "The man who is not your son has a _high_ estimation of your ability and intelligence."

Ruiz sniffed and coughed, fighting back more tears. "I ought not to have killed Kellogg."

"It was unavoidable," Danse replied.

"I _know._ But..." she turned to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. "It wasn't his fault, at all... and he lived such an awful life, too."

"I don't doubt," Danse replied. His knee began to ache, pressing into the wooden boards. "Listen, Ruiz," he said, strained.

"What?" she asked, staring back up at the sky.

"I don't want to be a cad," he answered, "but I am uncomfortable being outside of my armor for longer than is _needed."_

"Go on, then," she said, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I'm... I'm okay, now."

He nodded. "Thank you, Ruiz." Stood up and brushed off his knees.

"No," she murmured, her eyes lit up with the stars above as they reflected back out into the cosmos, "thank you, Danse. For talking to me."

Danse fought a smile as he returned to his suit. Perhaps he _did_ qualify, after all.


	5. Invested

Note: I... I can't even explain what's going through my head. I hope his chapter is okay. I haven't been able to concentrate, and all my words feel all wrong. It's also a little short, because I went too long in the scene and couldn't figure a short end for it.

* * *

Ruby was sitting at the desk in the house across from hers, staring through the ruined wall. Voices from the past played on her Pip-Boy, bringing tears to her eyes.

Nate had been so excited when Shaun was born. His little boy. She remembered him talking enthusiastically about taking Shaun to baseball games. Teaching him how to ride the tricycle across the way, now a rusted pile of scrap. Her heart hurt. Those memories were as much fantasy as this new wasteland world was, to her.

She hadn't touched the old house. Hadn't even set foot inside. After she'd left the Vault for the first time, she was in shock―hadn't made much sense to Codsworth, all alone out in the Hills for over two hundred years. He'd introduced her to the mutated creatures of the wastes, and suggested she find help...

Preston and his people represented the first group of humans she'd seen since she watched Nate die. And she'd been so nervous, shooting at those raiders inside the Museum. Preston was a good person; Sturges and the others didn't deserve to be chased and held down. When he'd asked her for help, she'd immediately offered to do what she could. They had been her best bet for finding Shaun, at the time.

And _now..._ she was the General of the Minutemen, a Knight in the Brotherhood of Steel, welcomed by all in Diamond City, and a good deal tougher than she had been before. She... she wasn't at her best, but she was getting better. Her family was gone, but she had to keep going. Had to make things better for everyone else.

It was all she _could_ do, right now.

That conversation with Danse, on the bridge, brought the pain back. But... she was _okay_ with that, now. Hearing Shaun's baby voice reminded her that she'd been helpless. _Had been._ She was no longer the vulnerable mother that she had been. He'd reminded her that she was capable of doing so much. That she was a strong woman, and she needed to show that strength. She didn't need to act like she was threatened, because she _wasn't._

Danse was right about everything that he had said; he was also right about Shaun. Shaun, as he was now, was no longer a person she could consider her son. She hadn't raised him, hadn't ever had the chance. What he was doing as director of the Institute only caused terror and confusion among the people of the wastes.

It wasn't _right._ Replacing people with synths... and no one knowing where the person was or if they were even still alive, was something she couldn't back. Even if it _was_ her son who headed the Institute, she couldn't be a part of it. She'd made the decision to go to war against him. Couldn't support the kind of chaos that the Institute was sowing in the wastes. What they were doing in that place... only made things out here, worse.

So she would make herself firm, like Danse suggested, and move on. Continue the fight against a frightening organization with the power to make folks vanish in the night, for whatever reason they did. Make this fucked-up world a little better for the children that hadn't yet been born, and make it so that parents never had to worry that their own children would go missing.

She was not going to let the sadness take over, again. It was hard _enough_ surviving the constant onslaught that the wasteland brought and if her hand was what steadied it―she would be glad to extend that hand. Proud, _even._ To make that difference.

"What's up?" came a voice. Ruby turned her head and looked up at MacCready, who was leaning against the ruined door frame and staring down at her. She blinked rapidly to remove any shininess from her eyes, and hoped they weren't red from crying. If he noticed, he said nothing.

He looked bored, leaning against the door frame. Ruby couldn't imagine ever being bored in this world, not when every moment was a moment in which one could die―or have one's loved ones ripped away. Like Shaun was. ...And what would have happened to _Duncan,_ if MacCready hadn't thrown his lot in with her.

Ruby felt a pang of sympathy for him. The former Gunner had, lately, been quiet. So much so, that Ruby had wondered what was going on with him. When she was in the Hills, he usually followed her around―like a little duck behind its mother, something she'd found as amusing as it was annoying―waiting for her to ask him out into the wastes. He would chew her ears off with his incessant prattle about what debts he had, or whine about how he was never a nails-and-hammer kind of guy.

She'd ignored him, mostly. He'd been useful in a fight, but crap for conversation until he'd opened up to her about his past. After that, it was easier. One more drop in her bucket of problems. One more broken person; another one just like the last, wanting help from her. Another person for her to help as an escape from her _own_ problems.

But MacCready hadn't been following her around, lately. And he had barely spoken to her since they returned to the Hills. After―

She considered the young man for a moment. After that _mess_ on the Natick Banks. His obvious attempt to hit on her, which had thrown her off-guard. She'd been less than willing to speak to him, after that. It was her way of correcting his behavior, keeping him straight. She wasn't interested in having that kind of relationship with him.

Her cheeks felt warm. Not that he wasn't _attractive_ in his own way. She glanced away from him. She actually missed the never-ending stream of babble. It was something she had grown used to... and found comforting.

"Was going through my holotapes," she told him. "I picked up a few I hadn't heard, yet." She looked back down at the pile of tapes in front of her. It was only a little lie. She'd put in the _Hi Honey!_ tape after listening to the Eddie Winter tape she'd found in Natick's police station. It was okay to _remember._ Even if it made her sad.

"Planning to stay for a while?" he asked, crossing his arms and staring out of the ruined wall. "I figured we'd be gone, by now."

That much was true; she barely spent any time in the settlement that wasn't punctuated by hard work or a desire to leave as soon as she arrived. Ruby looked out of the ruined wall again and shook her head. She had a whole community of people here, and she hadn't made any effort to fit into their lives. _Shameful._

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," she answered him, gathering up the tapes and shoving them into a desk drawer. "The Hills don't need any scrap right now. ...I might take a day off."

MacCready laughed at that, his tone incredulous, and Ruby felt her chest tighten with emotion. _Uncomfortable_ emotion. She... well, MacCready was a hell of a shot, and usually smart enough to listen to her. She'd never had much of a problem with him.

She'd decided that she liked him even if he acted like a whiny teenager. Chalked the complaints up to his youth; she'd been pretty annoying as a young woman, too. Lord knew she'd had her moments, and she'd paid for it just like MacCready did. Ruby made a face. She almost preferred the wasteland. People here weren't hung up on lacking personality traits, but on surviving the _damn day._

"Days off in the wasteland only happen after you're dead," MacCready remarked, crossing one leg over the other. He smiled at her, a gentle smile that made her even more uncomfortable.

"I guess you're right," she managed. Wished he would stop turning that "hurt little boy" face on her. Same thing he'd done up at the Vault, distracting her from her pain... only now it caused _more._

"Don't you gotta help the Brotherhood fix that big-ass robot?" He stared at a spot above her head.

"Yes," she answered, and looked down. "But I'm in no hurry to go back into Boston."

"...Why?" he asked, his voice strange. "Aren't you still looking for Shaun?"

Ruby's hands clenched into fists. "I..." she sniffed, and wiped her nose. "I found him."

MacCready stared at her without saying anything. The silence in the room was overrun by the sounds of hammering, busywork in the distance, and low conversations. Ruby opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, staring blankly at the floor.

He shifted position, lowering his arms. The rustle of fabric brought her attention to his coat; the outfit he'd worn in The Third Rail. She'd thought it looked ragged, tried to fix it for him, but ended up having to replace it with a similar coat. A better one, once she managed to figure out how to sew with what tools the wastes had to offer.

Reminded her of how she'd screwed up Nate's socks, darning the holes. It made her smile. She was as awkward at being a homemaker as Nate was at trying to convince her that it was _okay_ to have lumpy socks. It was heart-warming to remember how awkward Nate had been, not knowing how to comfort her, which only made him more adorable in the end.

MacCready... he was more confident with his words, but he was still that same kind of awkward adorable _goof_ that Nate had been.

She didn't deny that they were similar. When MacCready talked, it was like static in the background. Something she listened to but didn't hear. Something she enjoyed. Exactly like Nate and the quiet way he'd talked. She listened to MacCready, she listened to _everyone_ when they spoke, but Nate had had a special power to say nothing and everything at the same time. MacCready... Ruby sighed to herself. Was almost the same, except for the whining. She could do with less whining.

MacCready needed comforting as much as she did, and she didn't think she could give him comfort. She could barely keep herself _sane._ She didn't want to get invested in him. Not like that. She just needed... help.

She needed all the folks she'd gathered to help her, with the fight against the Institute, with the Minutemen trying to keep the wasteland safer. With building settlements, and hauling load after load of scrap back to the fledgling towns. Putting up houses and making sure everything was properly wired.

Most of all she needed help keeping herself alive; Nate had been a soldier, but Ruby was a lawyer. She'd never even held a gun on someone until the world ended. With the others around, she felt more secure than she had before. It was... well, without the constant company, she was sure she would have died already.

But that was another problem. Having MacCready around as often as she had him, brought _more_ than just friendship to the table. He was confident in his abilities; she'd helped him with the Gunners and helped to find Duncan's medicine. She'd helped because she knew if she was in his shoes she would expect the same, and... you treated others how _you_ wanted to be treated, in return.

His actions lately had led her to believe he felt more strongly for her than she'd imagined. He _admired_ her, even. Wanted to do whatever he could for her. MacCready seemed to be offering to fill whatever shoe needed filled, be it emotional or physical security. He'd been pushing the limit of her patience, and she wasn't ready for it.

Like his actions at Natick Banks. He'd asked her to tell him how he was doing, and she'd had to shut it down because... well, he was doing _good._

Her face flushed with blood. MacCready had been particularly smooth, with his remarks. Caught her at a bad moment. She felt guilty about how she'd reacted. She'd been sitting in his lap, for about ten stunned seconds, and she was acutely reminded of how nice it had been to hold him, at the Vault. To let her worries go and hold someone, and let that static take over.

Incredibly nice, just to hold someone and not worry about ever having to let go. She'd been comfortable enough that she'd fallen asleep in his arms, just like―like so times before... _with Nate―_

She pushed the thought away. Didn't want to think about that. It―it wasn't fair to memory, _or_ to the past. She didn't need to be reminded that she was only a hair's breadth away from falling in love, again. If―if it didn't go _well,_ she―

Ruby swallowed the lump of emotion that welled up in her throat. The guilt she felt from knowing she was stepping on her memories of Nate... might _kill_ her, if she let the static take over completely.

"Are you okay, Ruby?" MacCready was asking.

She blinked and pulled herself out of her reverie. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her face on fire.

"Kinda zoned out on me, there," he said, looking down at her. A small frown came over his face. "Anything you need to talk about?"

"Uh―" she felt the fire growing in her cheeks. Dammit, that was even more embarrassing. "No, MacCready, I'm... _I'm_ _okay."_

"I'm not trying to be rude," he said. "You can tell me about Shaun if you want. Don't _have_ to, though."

Ruby blinked back tears that threatened her eyes. "I..." she hesitated. "I'm _sorry,_ MacCready. I hadn't realized―" ...That he would _want_ to know. She'd assumed that he, like everyone else, didn't care enough to ask. Even Danse didn't know until her hand was forced. Until he pushed her patience and caused her to freak out.

The former Gunner was quiet for a moment. "So... what happened?" he asked, watching her curiously.

Ruby sighed and rubbed her eyes. "When I found him... in the Institute," she said, her voice tight with emotion, "Shaun was an old man. He'd grown up in there, without me." She closed her eyes. "And he... I thought that one of the synths―a boy, who _looked_ like Shaun... like the Shaun in Kellogg's memory―I thought _he_ was Shaun. But he _wasn't."_

MacCready made a funny noise and Ruby looked up at him, sharply. He'd turned his head and coughed, and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. He didn't say anything. Ruby looked back down at the Pip-Boy on her arm.

"I thought it was Shaun, but... _Shaun_ _set it up._ He _wanted_ me to see the boy. I guess..." she searched her memory. "I guess he wanted to see how the synth would react to _my_ reaction." The lump in her throat slowly disappeared, as she spoke about it.

MacCready muttered something under his breath. He cleared his throat and looked back at her. "I'm... I'm sorry I brought it up," he said, rubbing his nose. "Didn't mean to make you upset."

"I'm okay," she said, breathing out slowly. "I think talking about it _helps."_ She did feel better. A lot better. MacCready was a parent, he would know how bad it hurt to see what she had. He... could take on some of the burden for her, and absorb the pain that she couldn't.

"Listen... you've gone through a lot lately." MacCready shifted his weight again, nervously. "If you need a shoulder to lean on―or he―heck, _cry_ on―"

"I'm okay, MacCready," she said, calmly. For just this once, it felt like the truth. It was amazing.

There was a long, awkward silence. Ruby popped a knuckle on her hand and wondered what she ought to say. Briefly, she wondered if this was what Danse felt like. He never seemed to know exactly what to say to her, other than adhering to his military style. _Business as usual._

"Um," MacCready said, making a fist and opening it, shaking his hand a little. "Look, I might not―understand exactly what you've gone through. But I'll _listen,_ if you need it. You've been watching my as―my behind, and that's _not_ something you run into every day." His mouth twitched in a quick smile. "Thanks. For helping me. If _you_ need anything―"

"I helped you because you needed it," she interrupted. "And I appreciate you watching my 'behind', too." She stressed the word in a funny way.

MacCready paused for a split second before he made a face. "Hey, _now!"_ he griped.

Ruby chuckled before she could stop herself, at herself for picking on him. It felt _nice_ to laugh. She didn't intend anything by it but to catch him off guard. To pay him back for that attempt in Natick Banks.

And MacCready didn't act _at all_ like Nate had, when he was caught off-guard. That was a relief. She'd almost started to believe that he _was_ the same. Knowing they _weren't_ made it easier for her to ignore her own lurching heartbeat. To ignore the feelings she didn't _want_ to feel.

"C'mon, MacCready," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "Let's gear up and head out to Nordhagen Beach. I need to check on the settlers out there."

He made a "hmph" noise at her. "I guess you were right about talking about it," he said, shaking his head. "It _did_ help."

"Yeah," she agreed, even though she was about to go throw herself into working on a settlement again to get away from memory. _Baby steps, Ruby. This is better than running off to the Vault, right?_ "Guess it helps that you're such an easy target, too," she picked at him.

He groaned, following her away from the room. _"Dam―Dangit,_ Ruby."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get me back on the way out to the coast," she murmured. "After all, it's a long walk."


	6. Sacrifice

Note: I have a plan for this, but I will never be able to protray the BoS as I'd like to be able to. * _sigh*_

Need to make a choice of which fella, soon. Honestly, I love them both but I am skewed toward Danse. Leave me a review to let me know which one you prefer, hey?

* * *

"Too much debris in the way," Ruiz was muttering, holding a laser rifle up to her eye and staring through the scope at the distance. "I can't tell―"

The Glowing Sea was a desolate place. Danse understood the importance of being out among the blasted earth and monsters, though he could have wished for a better situation. The most worrying aspect of the mission was that Ruiz had declined to bring her power armor with her. He did not like or enjoy the fact that she had to flood her system with chems in order to survive the hostile environment, when it could have been avoided.

Once they were inside of Sentinel Site, he expected it wouldn't be as much of an issue. The site was one of the rare Pre-War strongholds that had been shielded from radiation, in the event of full attack. But her steadfast refusal to wear the armor and braving the Sea without protection made him wonder if she was intentionally allowing herself to come to harm. Purposefully subjecting herself to the radiation would _only_ cause harm.

Whatever purpose Ruiz would have to hurt herself... Danse didn't understand the woman. His inability to handle her, before, had been embarrassing, though such outbursts had halted since his talk with her. He now felt more readily able to control the situation, if she were to break down again. But she had not done so.

She also had not brokered the subject with him, since. He was not so anxious to bring it back to the surface after burial. To test his new ability. He wasn't sure it was actually there.

Ruiz growled and lowered the rifle, shaking her head. Danse watched her pull a sleeve end out from her glove and wipe her eyes, then return the rifle to her face. "There's that chapel, but..."

"We should move ourselves to a higher vantage point," he mentioned, turning his head to survey the area. There wasn't much higher ground than what they were standing on, though. A disadvantage to the area they were surveying, blasted into gentle rolling hills and brown air.

"I don't think―" she started, glancing over at him. Her eyes swept up his arm and locked onto his shoulder. She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Hang on. I have an idea."

Danse made a questioning noise, watching her move behind him. He half-turned to see what she was doing but she cut him short. "Stand still, okay?" she asked, and he felt a tug on the back of his armor.

"What are you doing, Knight?" he asked, curious. From the feeling of her tugs, he guessed she was about to climb the back of his armor. _Why_ ―he answered his own question, immediately. The height disparity between Ruiz and the ground would be far greater if she was above him. Without a comparative height in the area, the only option was to stand on his shoulders and surveil. Smart of her, to think like that.

He _was_ surprised, though. Ruiz had not employed closeness such as this, before. Perhaps she felt more comfortable with him, since their discussion on the footbridge in the Hills. The sort of familiarity that he would require to touch another soldier, especially a subordinate, in such a manner, would have taken him years to achieve.

"I'm going to get up higher," she explained, "by using your armor. Don't move."

"Affirmative," he said, feeling her hand moving against the rubber seal of his helmet as she grabbed at the collar of the armor. Ruiz pulled herself up until her knees were on his shoulders.

"Okay, so..." He felt the weight on his shoulders as she anchored herself, pushing up into a kneel. "If I fall, you can catch me, _right?"_

Danse replied in the positive, but he was―well, he wasn't _uncomfortable_ but―he searched his mind for a word to describe what was making his blood run a little faster. Was he nervous? Having the Knight so physically near to him made his heart skip slightly. It was not a pleasant feeling, yet at the same time he wished it would never end.

Feeling such as that were not very useful to him. He didn't know quite how to deal with himself, when he felt like this. He doubted that Ruby would appreciate his acting out such feelings, either. She was more focused now than she had been, and he _was_ satisfied to have Ruiz back to normal.

He knew that Ruiz had been unsatisfied by merely being his subordinate. She would not have mentioned that she needed someone to speak to, someone who was not her commanding officer, if she was _not_ unhappy. She'd implied that she needed him as a friend, and he had no desire to ruin that with romantic intent. He considered her a good friend, and so he had told her.

He was unaware if the feelings he was experiencing now were a part of such intent, or if he was simply uncomfortable with the physical closeness. He did enjoy Ruiz's company more than anyone he'd known, even Cutler. But he was not entirely certain how to interpret his own feelings.

Ruiz's knees slid a little, prompting her to put a hand on the top of his helmet. "Sorry," she said, as she steadied herself.

Most definitely an unpleasant feeling, when something as small as a touch―through his power armor, even―caused him such discomfort. Danse cleared his throat and fought the urge to tilt his head and look up at her. "Ruiz, I don't think this action is very safe," he said, keeping his head as still as possible.

"Nothing's safe," she said, tapping the top of his head briefly. The noise rang through his helmet far too loudly, as she pulled the rifle from her back. Danse could hear the powering up of the energy pack, and heard the click as she readied it for combat. "Just hold still and let me get a look at what's down there."

Danse sighed, quietly. "Very well. But I would advise you not to remain on my shoulders for very long. We are not without danger, here."

Ruiz chuckled. "Yes, sir," she said, lightly, and took a moment to examine the area. After a time, she put her rifle away and put her hands down onto the front of his armor, moving herself back down toward the ground.

A slight movement out to the right of their position brought him alert, snapping his head to the side to address it. He brought up his weapon, as Ruiz was climbing down his back, in a rough motion. She swore in a high-pitched voice, and he froze.

The tugging on his back grew more intense. _"Danse,"_ she muttered, as she put a boot onto his leg. "You moved and my fingers are stuck in your elbow."

Danse blinked behind the helmet facing. He was quiet, watching the movement that had yet to stop. The sound of her gloves scraping against the metal plating was the only sound he could hear, as a radscorpion burst out of the ground in front of them―

Ruiz jerked away in time for him to bash the radscorpion away, stunning it for a fraction of a second. She pulled her weapon and they decimated the creature shortly, murky blood splattering the ruined soil. Once the threat had been eliminated, Danse turned back to Ruiz and saw her examining her glove, holding her laser rifle aimed at the ground.

"I am sorry," he started, but she waved at him and holstered the rifle.

"It's fine," she said, turning back to the distance they had been watching. "Like you said, it was dangerous. I'm not hurt."

"Let us be on own way, then," he said.

"Yeah." Ruiz started walking, and he followed.

* * *

The two of them reached Sentinel site, without much interference. He explained a little about the site to her, but she didn't appear to be listening. Danse cleared his throat, looking down at her. Ruiz blinked, and turned to him. She was distracted, staring blankly at the outside of the burned carapace.

"Knight Ruiz?" he asked, carefully.

"I'm... I'm okay, Danse," she said, sighing. "Was thinking about this mission, is all."

"Let's go inside," he said, motioning at the door. "The radiation out here is very heavy." Ad he did not wish to have yet another awkward conversation with her, subject to the ravages of the wastes.

"Yeah," she agreed, and opened the door.

Sentinel site was full of ghouls. They cleared the threat as she scouted the area for a way to shut down the site alert, moving steadily toward the bottom of the facility. Ruiz was quiet until they came across another human being―a Child of Atom guarding the warheads that they were there to acquire. Danse eyed the Assaultron standing nearby, assessing the threat.

"Let me handle it," Ruiz told him, and Danse watched her speaking with the man. It was a mere moment later that she had convinced him to let them gain access. Without any need for fighting.

Ruiz was strong, he knew. Her words were well-placed, and his pride in her ability was as well. He was not incorrect in thinking she would be in power, one day. The Brotherhood had benefited from her variety of persuasion, and he was glad to have run across her.

Merely being able to get into the warhead storage without having to hurt anyone was enough to instill pride in him, in his choosing to patronize the woman. ...Perhaps he enjoyed Ruiz for her ability to get things done, with or without the combat sometimes necessary to survive in the wastes. Cutler had been that way; careful and able to deter a threat. Calculating and intelligent. It saddened him that Cutler's chapter in life had ended so abruptly.

But at least it was by the hands of someone who cared for him. Unlike Ruiz's husband. He winced at the thought.

He swept the room to assure himself that the warheads were in good condition and of use to the Brotherhood, then turned to face Ruiz. "I have to stay behind," he told her, staring down at her as she goggled at the amount of warheads left in the bunker below the site. "I will guard the acquisition until it can be removed. You return to the airport and report."

Ruiz nodded, absently, before pausing and holding her hand up to her chin in thought. "Danse," she said, quietly.

"What is it, Knight?"

Ruiz sighed and rubbed her chin. "Just..." she said. "Getting Liberty Prime remade, and all... it's going to help a lot of people. _But..."_ she trailed off, looking thoughtfully into the darkness.

"All thanks to the Brotherhood," he said, pointedly, but she didn't reply. Just turned and made a noncommittal noise. Danse narrowed his eyes at that. If she were expressing doubt about the motives of the Brotherhood, now―

"Ruiz," he said, more of a question than anything.

She looked back at him, then sighed and turned away. "Danse, I..."

"Are you doubtful of the Brotherhood's goals?" he asked, staring her down. "That is not what you indicated to me, previously." Pulled the cast right off the broken bone, and brought it into the open. Ruiz was not oblivious, she would know that he would react in such a way.

But she would continue to try to convince him of her neutrality, if that was her affiliation; she was stubborn and strong, and she would fight. He felt embarrassed in himself to have chosen her as a protege, if she was about to claim allegiance to another.

If the Brotherhood was forced to make her into an enemy, because she was more focused on helping the Minutemen or another faction, she would be a powerful one. But only for her words. She was a terrible shot, and the numbers of Minutemen were dramatically reduced. They would not want to make war with Elder Maxson. They would be cut down, _easily._

"Danse," she chided, acting nervous. "I don't think the Brotherhood is wrong." She looked down. "Just... I don't like how certain _interests_ are being represented."

"Certain interests that supported your goal of reaching the Institute," he reminded her, stiffly.

"My goals run alongside the Brotherhood goals," she replied, her voice becoming firm. "They are of the same vein, removing the Institute as a threat to the people of the Commonwealth."

"But at some point, they may _not,"_ he finished, an icy tone creeping into his voice. "You do realize that you may make an enemy of the Brotherhood―"

"I'm not trying to make enemies―" she began, and groaned. "Look, I'm spreading myself thin over all these people―and I don't want to upset any of them―"

She paused for a long time and he watched her face. Ruiz was conflicted, for some reason, and he had not been aware of it until this point. Until it was very nearly too late, and it was certainly _not_ a good time for her to evince such behavior. Elder Maxson would see her withdrawal from the Brotherhood as treachery. Ruiz would not realize what Pandora's box she was opening, if she incurred the wrath of the Elder―who was not known for mercy―

"If you believe that the Institute is a threat, then it would be best to support the Brotherhood," he said, trying to keep the anger from his voice. "We are the _only_ solution that is available."

"That's what I thought," she muttered. _"...Hubris._ Look, Danse―"

"If you are intending to turn against Elder Maxson, you know how he will react," Danse interrupted, staring at her. "You _know_ what I will be ordered to do. I do not want to have another friend's death on my conscience."

Ruiz turned her her to stare at him. "Really."

"To make oneself an enemy of Elder Maxson is not something one does lightly," he replied, direly.

"Then I'll _accept_ that," she snapped. "When it happens. I am only questioning the methods of the Brotherhood, right now! You don't need to react like―" She growled, in frustration. "Like I am attacking _you!"_

 _When._ Danse felt a strike of pain in his chest. She assumed that it was inevitable. _Why?_ He turned his head away, and tried not to imagine what he would feel if he were ordered to take her out. It wasn't... _easy,_ to stop that thought.

 _Why_ would she even help the Brotherhood, if she intended to back out? _Why_ did she even accompany him to the Sentinel site? Giving Liberty Prime his weapons would give the Brotherhood a resource that was nigh-unstoppable, one that she _knew_ the Minutemen were not able to fight against.

"I'm sorry, Danse," she said, slowly. "It's―just, the _Commonwealth_ is―" she paused. "Abused. _Broken._ Needs a _gentle_ hand, not a firm one. If we can make the towns better, give the people the ability to fight back for themselves, then the Commonwealth can make itself better without being controlled in one form or another. Helping people to help _themselves―"_ She sighed.

He understood. She was only trying to help the people of the Commonwealth themselves, but she had been upset by the revelation of Shaun running the Institute; she had come to know that the people here would not help themselves without being assured constantly. Helping the Commonwealth was like trying to befriend a stray dog. They would always shy away from the hand, until they had been enabled long enough. Until the trust was given without question.

And the Brotherhood would not do that. It would leave, once the situation was more stable. Once the threat was gone and the technology gathered from the area. Elder Maxson would order them out, to establish safety elsewhere.

But Ruiz seemed to think that the Brotherhood was merely trying to conquer the Commonwealth, just as the raiders had. The iron grip that the Gunners and the raiders had on the area could be shaken loose by the Brotherhood and would be, eventually, shattered.

But they would not replace that grip with an even stronger one. That was not their goal. He had not properly educated Ruiz on her entry into the Brotherhood, and now her opinion was suffering. He must rectify that opinion.

Danse returned his gaze to hers. "It is not my intention, _nor_ is it the Brotherhood's, to rule over these people. If they would apply themselves to join us, they would gather the same benefits as you and I have. And you know those benefits have brought you further than you would have gotten, before."

"Join you," she said, sounding angry. "And what farmer would join a group who demands his crop in return for not being overrun? I've seen how the Brotherhood works. They take what they need, _without_ giving quarter!"

Danse breathed in, sharply. Her opinion had suffered greatly. He might be able to fix that. "We take because we need the resources to enable security. Sacrifice must be made," he answered, carefully. "If one expects safety. You know that, Ruiz. Your husband was a soldier―"

Ruiz stomped over to him, grabbed at his armor and pulled him down to her level, staring at him angrily. He stared at her in surprise, letting her move him when she should not have been able to. His gaze met her green eyes for a brief moment, seeing the anger and pain there.

He should not have brought up the subject. It was a mistake that he would now have to face the punishment for.

 _"Don't you lecture me about sacrifice, Danse!"_ she growled, her face animated. "I don't _need_ _th_ ―and y _ou,_ of _all_ people? _You_ ―bringing up _Nate―using_ him _against me_ _like that?!"_

Danse lowered his eyes but did not move his head. "I _apologize,_ Ruiz," he said, quietly. "It was wrong of me to say such a thing."

 _"Nate_ wanted―" Her eyes filled up with tears. "He wanted to make a _difference,_ make things better for _other people!"_ She released his armor and backed away, wiping her face. "I―I've been doing all I _can,_ because― _because_ _he would have!"_

Danse breathed in, shakily. Her outburst was getting to him. As much as he did not enjoy the tension, he also did not enjoy that he himself felt powerless to skew the conversation away from it. Ruiz would always make him feel terrible, for his inability to speak as freely as he ought to be able. For putting his foot in his mouth, and biting down.

"Ruiz, I _am_ sorry―" he paused, and removed his helmet to look her in the eyes. "I understand. Nate served for a greater good. I am only trying... to compare _his_ service to what _we_ are doing as part of the Brotherhood."

"It's _not_ the same," she said, sounding wounded. She did not meet his gaze, this time. _"Not at all._ You can't _take_ from the people you are trying to serve, or demand that they provide to you the means to do so. That is not _freedom!"_

"I understand your concern," he said, slowly. "But I am not able to change what has happened. Or what will. Collecting technology and and receiving supply from the wastes is what the Brotherhood does, Ruiz. It is the only way we _can_ continue to serve them."

She started back toward the facility, shaking her head. "I don't expect you to change," she muttered. "No one ever does." She disappeared into the facility.

Danse didn't know quite what to say. He was unsure if this argument made her into an enemy, or if he should note it as a mere discussion of politics. She was... angry that he'd had the gall to talk about what she had lost. He had been wrong to bring up her dead husband as a way to reassure her. Not only because he was not in a position to have known anything about the man, and had simply assumed his service meant she would understand―but also because he knew she was emotionally charged when that subject was broached, and he had done so. It was on his head, if she decided to leave the Brotherhood.

Perhaps she felt Elder Maxson was too strict in his treatment of the Commonwealth's population. There was no price on the freedom that the Brotherhood intended to bring to the wastes, at least none that could be identified.

He had thought she understood that, when she agreed to join the Brotherhood.

Danse reapplied his helmet, stared up at the bombs around him, and remembered his own past.

 _I am not a very good patron,_ he thought.

But he _was_ a good soldier.


	7. Heart

Note: In the words of one of my fans, when in doubt, throw in more romance. I did have Hancock planned and written over a week ago, though. This is an updated result of that.

I know everything is jerky, moving between the scenes. I'm still exploring the characters as I go along. (Except for Maxson, I really don't want to write him right now.)

* * *

John was sitting away from the Hills, at the edge of a pier. The creek moved steadily under his feet as they dangled over the edge, the toes of his boots brushing the surface of the water. With one hand on a fishing rod and the other on a beer, he was enjoying the day. He told the skeleton sprawled out nearby, but that one was forever silent.

"Don't know how you went," he said to it, looking down at the grimy dress clinging to the bones. "Hope you went somewhere good."

Might've been the last vestiges of the mentats he'd taken, but he was feeling contemplative today. He finished the beer, set down the bottle, and reeled in the fishing line. Nothing. _Ah, well._

John stared up at the blue sky, peeking through the clouds, and listened to the low hum of the settlement behind him. Being away from Goodneighbor... getting a break from being the Man, all that. Was running through his head a lot more often, lately. He didn't do much in Sanctuary Hills that he hadn't at Goodneighbor, except that here he was free from the responsibility. What he did _here_ was voluntary.

Voluntarily supporting freedom, like he'd done before he became mayor. His mouth curled up into a smile. Hadn't had a chance to kick some serious ass like _that,_ in a while. Ruby made it real easy―easy to find the assholes, easy to take them down. Keeping the raiders in the wastes at bay, protecting the people. He was there when she took out that bastard in the Saugus Ironworks, trying to make himself a little raider empire.

Shit like Slag _deserved_ to be ground under the boots of another. Minding his own but ruling with an iron fist. Fuck that shit. In this world―his world, _Ruby's_ world―here, that kind of shit didn't fly more than a foot before someone put a foot on its neck. His foot or Ruby's, didn't matter. It only mattered that it happened.

 _How it should be,_ he thought. This world had _enough_ shit to go around.

Here in the world Ruby was trying to make, he wouldn't have to worry about people trying to take his legs out from under him―like Bobbi No-Nose and the Triggermen, that sort. Here, he wouldn't have to claw his way out from under tyranny. Wouldn't have had to become Hancock, to right the wrongs, in Ruby's world.

To fight the powers that be. The powers that be were too undermanned to notice if he tried, right now. Too busy keeping the bastards in the wastes down, to mind that there might be insurgency. Hell, he was still surprised there _hadn't_ been insurgency in the settlements. Sister did good, keeping people happy like she was.

She had a full plate with this Minutemen shit. Didn't surprise him. She was the martyr type, he figured. Fahrenheit told him how she talked Bobbi out of trying to steal from him, how she'd appreciated the General's soft tone and sway. John was impressed. Bobbi didn't cave easy. _Neither does Fahrenheit, heh._

Ruby had a way with words that precluded violence. She'd put herself on the plate and offered it up to the assholes, and took the hit for everyone else. Left it up to the soldier and the Gunner to cover her ass if the plan went sour.

Hadn't gone sour, though. Her way worked for her... at the expense of her sanity, maybe. Hancock had fought tooth and nail against the assholes, since―man, he didn't _want_ to think about that. Not right now.

Hancock was a fighter. John... was _not._ That was why he'd put on the coat. Why he'd remade himself, so he _could_ fight. Ruby, she fought with words more than the violence that had made him into Hancock. Made friends, got contacts, kept the lights on at home, made wheels turn. Respected others, but didn't push 'em around. He liked that.

Hell, he just liked _Ruby._ Now, that... that surprised him. She wasn't really his _type._

But she was... shit, she wasn't like anyone _else_ in the world he'd ever met. He knew he ought to think more highly of her than he did. Sister was running the whole of the place and hadn't been complaining. Other than her breakdown on the bridge... which the soldier hadn't fucked up, and MacCready sure was disappointed with that.

That boy didn't know the _half_ of it, when it came to women. John did. Ruby wasn't gonna fall in love with the Gunner because he would take care of her; she was gonna martyr herself to love him, like she did with everything else, and take care of _him._

John wouldn't wish himself on anyone, like that. MacCready wouldn't be able to suss it, if Ruby babied him. He'd just be happy he got his way, like a spoiled brat.

And the soldier, hell, that one didn't even seem remotely interested. Unless that was how he showed it. Holding back. Like John; not wanting to let the interest show because he didn't _deserve_ a woman like her. Danse didn't act one way or the other about how he felt, other than proclaiming undying friendship.

Doubted the man would know what the hell to do if he got the girl, anyway. So damn awkward. Fellow couldn't even bring himself to give her a fucking hug, when she was down.

Heh, he knew what _he_ would do―

Shit, heavy thoughts. John didn't much like thinking all this heavy shit.

He ran a tongue along his teeth and fingered the inhaler of Jet in his pocket, debating on killing the heavy thoughts. Ruby always thanked him when he offered her up chems, but never used them. He wasn't entirely sure what she'd done with the, by now, hundreds of caps worth of chems he'd given her. Probably sold them for all those shipments of copper and shit that came into the Hills.

 _Each to their own,_ he supposed. Couldn't make the woman want for what she didn't. She might feel better if she tried a hit once in a while, stop all the pain, but... she put herself into the people to run away from her memories as much as he did the drugs to forget _his._

John felt a little lightheaded for a brief moment, and shook it off. That was normal―and it was normal for him to lose himself in thoughts, every once in a while. The chems helped him forget those thoughts. Helped keep him steady, while he ignored the past and tried his damnedest not to remember who he'd been.

He was John Hancock now, _huh?_ Had to set the example. _Be_ the Man. God, he hated that.

John pulled the inhaler out and held it to his mouth. Contemplation was getting a little tiresome.

 _"Hancock!"_

He turned to see Ruby moving through the brush, coming over the ground toward him. Dropped the hand holding the inhaler to his side and watched her. "Yeah?" he asked, as she hit the boards of the pier.

Ruby paused for a moment, and John studied her. She wore the Minutemen hat―every bit as impressive on her head as the tricorn was on his own―but had changed out the outfit for a Brotherhood jumpsuit and other accessories. Preparing to leave on a run, he expected. Found himself staring at her face, watching the hidden emotion under the facade.

She had green eyes―he didn't remember what color his eyes had been. Probably brown, since he'd been so full of _shit._ Ten years was a long time for anyone in this world, long enough to forget their past. Not him, though. He'd only forgotten his face.

Ruby was standing there, in front of him, awkwardly. John's eye swept down her front and he felt a smile coming 'cross. Ruby was a good-looking woman. She wasn't thin, but was soft-looking. He knew under all that soft skin, she had a good bit of muscle. He was willing to bet you could bounce a cap off her ass and catch it in mid air.

John stood, looking at the creek again, and lifted the Jet in his hand. When he started waxing on in his head like that about the Minutemen missus, that was the time to forget. Impure thoughts about her, much as he enjoyed it, only made him more uncomfortable with himself.

She made a frustrated noise, reached out, and swiped the inhaler from his hand. He was about to protest but stopped stock still when she inhaled it, herself.

 _Shit._ Not a good thing, seeing Ruby doing chems. She breathed in as deeply as anyone ever could, her jumpsuit expanding with the breath and pushing her breasts out. He bit the inside of his mouth and waited for her to explain. _And_ enjoyed the view. Couldn't _not_ appreciate that one.

"I need your advice, Hancock," she slurred. Her voice was temporarily distorted by the drugs, sounding deeper and slowed. She tossed the inhaler back to him.

John chuckled, put the empty thing in his pocket and fished out another. "Hang on," he muttered, breathing in his hit. He watched the world conceiving around him, the blurred beauty as everything became real. "Something got you jammed?" he mused, a smile on his face.

Ruby wobbled a little, then dropped to the pier. _"Jesus,"_ she said, blinking rapidly. "How can you do that stuff?"

John stared at the water in amazement. Never failed to amuse him, when he was high. Watching the motion slowly rolling through the liquid, for the few seconds that it lasted. He almost forgot she was speaking to him, for a moment.

"What, Jet?" he asked, raising what used to be an eyebrow. "It's easy. Just put your mouth on it and _breathe."_

Ruby laughed, a nice sound. "Okay, yeah," she said, chuckling. "Man... uh, I hope it wears off quick." She coughed and spat into the water. "Tastes like shit."

"It _is_ shit," he shrugged. "Why are you doing Jet, anyway? You never―"

Ruby paled and gripped the post nearby with one hand, her knuckles white from the strength. "Hancock." She coughed again. "I have to find Danse. And... _kill_ him."

"What? Why?" He squatted down in front of her and put out a hand to steady her. Wouldn't be right to let her wobble her shapely ass into the river by accident. Not if he was there to watch out for her.

"He's―" she laughed, and rubbed her face. Eyes were red. Had been crying. "He's a _synth,_ Hancock," she said, her voice full of disbelief.

"Huh," he said. "Wouldn't have figured it. Makes sense, though." He did act less like a human being than anyone he'd ever known. That moniker he'd given the soldier was more than appropriate, now.

"What do _I_ ―I mean, I _can't―"_ she wiped her eyes again but the tears started anyway. "We're _friends―I think―_ and I know―"

"Know what now?" John asked, steadying her with both hands. She was shaking like a tree in a storm. Damn, this shook her bad, even with the Jet to dull it. He didn't expect her to make much sense, after that first hit ever. But shaking like that... he hadn't seen _that_ one, before. Not with Jet, anyway.

"I know I should be lenient, but I― _I_ _can't,"_ she whispered. "I went to _war_ against the Institute." Her hands were shivering in her lap like scared dogs, trying to hide themselves under her legs, now. John shot a glance at them, then laid one of his onto hers. She went still, sniffling.

"I hear ya, sister," he replied. "What's the lay?"

Ruby sighed, looked down at his hand on hers, and adjusted herself so that she was square on her ass. "Elder Maxson said I had to kill him because he's a synth. Because he... because he _exists."_

John nodded. "Sounds like the Brotherhood."

"And..." she sighed again. "I thought I _hated_ synths. I _did_ hate them. _Shaun―"_ she started crying, fat tears rolling down her face.

"Heard about that one from MacCready," he muttered, shifting his weight. Looked around to make sure no one was watching. Didn't need some idiots stumbling in on her losing her shit again. He'd been the idiot, the last time. And it could've been a lot worse, if some random settler came by and got demoralized by the sight.

"You―you _know,"_ she said, almost sounding relieved. "That boy Kellogg h-had, wasn't _h-him."_

"Yeah, I know," John said. "Shit move, on his part. Tugging at hearts. _Bad_ karma."

"John, what do I _do?_ How can I save _Danse_ ―and _not_ screw things up? We can't go to war against the Brotherhood, _too―"_ She stared up at him, and he moved his hands away. Sat back and tried to think about what he would do.

Well, he wouldn't have bothered with the Brotherhood to begin with. Made it a little difficult to imagine how it would play out, for him. _He_ could barely keep himself in Goodneighbor, held to the people there. Was more focused on making the place inhabitable, over moving forward.

He wasn't enough on his own to do what she was doing. To make shit from the ground up into something better. He'd only swooped in and taken down a figurehead, rather than create a town from scratch.

"Why do you keep my ass around here," he asked her, curiously. "You don't seem the type to want a chem-head up in your perfect little world."

"What?" she sputtered. "Hancock, you―you _needed_ the break, right?"

"Said I wasn't gonna become the Man," he agreed.

"You... you wanted to get away. I asked you here to help me." She sniffled, wiped her nose. "And I _do_ need your help. I need _everyone's_ help."

"All these people," he shook his head. "And you came to _me_ for advice?"

Ruby sighed, covered her face. "You... you have a heart," she muffled. "And you hear better than everyone else. Even if you don't _listen."_

John chuckled a little. That illuminating conversation between the two of them, when he'd told her about why he took on the name and the outfit, and she came away with him having a _heart._ It wasn't completely untrue. He'd become Hancock to prove to himself it was worth being alive, to make up for everything he'd _not_ done. Everything he would have done, if he had that heart before it was forced on him in the gutters of Goodneighbor.

He did it to be stronger than what he'd been. He did it for not fighting against McDonough, when he had the chance. For letting him get rid of the ghouls in Diamond City. For giving up on trying to save anyone and everyone, including himself.

Ruby and he were polar opposites, or so he'd thought. She'd never given up―until now, it felt. And she came to him when she gave up. _Go figure._

"You keep me around to show you what happens when you give up, don't you?" he asked coldly.

"What?" Ruby lowered her hands and blinked at him. "Wh―" She shook her head at him. "That's _ridiculous,_ Hancock―"

"Is it? I told you I was scraping out of the bottom of a shit-filled barrel." He sighed. "That I put on the suit to fix the barrel. So it wouldn't _leak."_

Ruby shook her head again. "You... I _don't_ keep you around as an example, Hancock. You... get along, make people happy. Even if they have to do chems to be happy." She looked down at her hands, still shaking slightly.

"You want another hit?" he asked, holding out some Jet.

"No, thank you," she whispered, and lowered her hands to her lap. "We are... _friends,_ aren't we?" she asked, slowly.

"I think so." He squinted at the creek again. "But, hey, that might be some chem-dream I had two weeks ago, for all I remember."

Ruby sputtered a little laugh. "Don't lie, Hancock. We are friends. I value your friendship."

"You value being friends with the Brotherhood?" he shot back. "Gonna give up Big Iron for them?"

She breathed out, slowly. "No. I don't think so."

"There's your answer, then. Go out and get your murderbot back." He shrugged again and ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, pensively.

Ruby stared at him, her face full of confusion. "But _you―"_

"Think I'm all for keeping synths down? Well, yeah." He stared back at her. "But that bucket of bolts did good for anyone around here, keeping people safe. Don't see why _he's_ the problem. People that _made_ him, now..." John shot her a look. "You take down the man out there making that shit, and we're golden. No more synths being made, no more _problem."_

Ruby nodded, blinking rapidly. "Yeah..." she said, sighing. "Yeah. _Okay._ I see what you mean."

 _You'd better,_ he thought. It was hard for him to say what he didn't really _believe._ To make it better for her, okay for her. _It's the little lies in life, we appreciate,_ he thought. Damn synths coming in, scaring people... Danse hadn't done anything like that. He hadn't made much of a wake when he came back with Ruby, but for his―John guessed it was programmed, his _attitude_ toward the rest of them. But the soldier had helped keep the Hills safe, and John didn't think he would drop it all to swear some sort of sick allegiance to the Institute.

He didn't like Danse, but _Ruby_ did. And that mattered more, right now. Danse had helped her more than anyone else had, out here. More than MacCready had, and synth or not the soldier was level-headed enough to keep Ruby from breaking down again. He'd made her feel ten times better that night on the bridge. Even if he hadn't hugged her, the awkward bastard that he was.

John wasn't about to take away what she needed, kill the synth that she had come to know as the man Danse, because he was created by some shitheels down in the deep dark terror of people's hearts. It was _almost_ as bad as the Institute taking people off in the night.

"You want me to come with you?" he asked. "Help you track him down?"

Ruby stared at him for a moment. She hadn't bothered to take him anywhere since he came back to Sanctuary Hills with her the first time. Left him to his own devices. Not enough action to make him want to stay, really. Much as he liked her attitude.

...A _lot_ like him, except she hadn't used drugs to run away. He could respect that. Didn't much like to see her attitude reversed, though.

"You shouldn't want to save him," she said, slowly.

"Don't make me change my mind, Ruby," he cautioned.

"I..." she sniffled and wiped her face. "Yes. Please come with me."

"No problem." He nodded at her. "Hey, but no more Jet." He rattled a box of mentats in his pocket. "There's a chem for everyone. We'll find yours."

"No, thank you," she said, much more firmly. "I'm done with that for good. I can still taste the shit."

John smiled a crooked smile at the perfect blue sky above Sanctuary Hills, and nodded to himself.

Ruby _should_ be herself. That was how he liked her best.


	8. No More Martyrs

Note: Had to copy the dialogue in some places. Sorry about that. I did alter what I could, when I could, by truncating the long-winded supervillian speech that Maxson gives. Also changed up what the SS says in reply. I don't think I managed to capture the impact of Maxson's words, but I did my best.

Thank you for the reviews, Queenybeeba and Corlissangel! As always, you are a favorite fan, Starrysky ;) but I think Ruby is a great deal stronger than Maggie.

* * *

"You sure this is the right place?" Hancock asked.

Ruby shot him a glance, her feet crunching through the branches and leaf litter that was strewn about the ground. It was a beautiful day for traveling, she'd thought. Aside from where they were headed―

Her teeth ground together once, before she stopped herself. "Haylen said Danse would have come here," she answered, pushing a branch out of the way and stepping over a downed tree.

Hancock hopped over the trunk and chuckled a little. "Should have expected it," he muttered to himself.

"Expected what," Ruby asked, lowering her voice. They were getting close to the bunker. She had no clue how the biometric scanners in laser turrets worked, but every last bunker she'd seen out here was equipped with both. Didn't need to get shot looking for him―

"Him being a soldier to the end," Hancock replied. _"Programmed._ Synths know their roles." He shook his head and paused for a moment, rattling something in his pocket.

"It's not absolute," she said, remembering the boy synth. "Not _every_ synth is a perfect replica."

"Coulda fooled me," he mumbled, and she heard the hiss of an inhaler.

"Kind of the _point,_ John," she murmured.

He laughed, honestly amused. After a quiet moment of walking, Hancock made a noise to get her attention. "Ruby," he said, calmly. "You gonna be okay with this? Saving him... breaking the rules?"

Ruby sighed. "I'm _not_ going to kill him," she reaffirmed. "He's... not what I expected, from a synth. If he really _is_ a synth."

"If the Brotherhood said he is, then he is," Hancock drawled. "They know their business."

Her heart wrenched. Remembered that conversation with Maxson, in the Prydwen... asking her how she couldn't have _known._ Part of her was upset that Maxson assumed she was in on the deception, though she understood why. Danse had found her in the wastes. Maxson assumed, as was his nature, that she had been planted by the Institute in some attempt to gather information on the Brotherhood.

Like _Danse_ presumably had.

Ruby paused for a moment, a hand on a tree trunk, staring out into the area. She didn't... _couldn't_ believe it, still. Felt like she ought to have proof, but the only way to get proof was to―

She _wasn't_ going to kill Danse. Broke her heart, hearing Haylen talking about being his friend. Having to play along with the Brotherhood and agreeing to track him down, and Haylen verbally attacking her like she had, took a lot more self-control than she'd thought she _had._

At least Haylen understood that she was giving him a chance. Ruby wasn't going to kill him, regardless of what the young Scribe might believe. She wouldn't let it come to that.

When... she and Danse had argued, about the Brotherhood's motives in the Commonwealth, she'd been angry that he couldn't understand her point. That they were harming people by demanding resources. He'd brought up _Nate._ She was furious at him―how dare he talk about Nate like he knew _anything_ about him. Like he had a _right_ to bring him up in an argument―

But... Danse _had_ been correct when he referred to sacrifice. When he talked about necessary actions, the collecting of resources from the wastes, she knew what he was saying. The Brotherhood was voluntarily fighting against the Institute, because they wanted to bring stability. Danse himself knew the _cost_ of such action, to himself and to his men.

The cost for people like Haylen, who had done as she was ordered even if it broke her heart. Danse had seen the outcome of his action, and even though he was confused by it he had not backed down.

He was more human that most, she thought. If he truly _was_ a synth―Hancock was right. The Brotherhood knew what they were doing. That was why she had allied with them, in order to find Shaun.

Ruby glanced back at Hancock, watching him watching her. He hadn't said a word the whole time she was thinking. _He'd_ made a sacrifice, too. When she asked him for advice, she'd really only expected him to tell her that synths were the enemy. To make it easier for her to follow through on Maxson's orders. She hadn't expected him to _sympathize_ with someone who was a synth.

Hancock _had_ made it a point that he didn't like the idea. That she didn't want him to change his mind. But he'd said Danse was important to the settlement, to helping others. And he was right about the real problem―

She breathed out, feeling her willpower draining with the air leaving her lungs. It wasn't _easy_ to plan for the coming storm. To... deal with the situation. To know how everything would end. But she was going to try her best. Danse wasn't worth sacrificing.

 _No more martyrs._

"There's the bunker," she said, quietly. Pointed to the dip in the ground. "Let's get this horseshit over with."

"I hear ya, sister," Hancock replied, nodding firmly.

* * *

On the ride down in the elevator, she checked her weapon. Didn't know if Danse would _want_ to talk to her. He might... attack, if provoked, if he felt threatened. She didn't think he would, though.

Hancock was making noise, but she ignored him. Didn't say anything, just watched the doors with a cold stare. She could do this. Everything _he'd_ told her about mistakes, everything he'd said about making truths real, ran through her head.

She was not helpless. Nor was she in the wrong. Her words mattered to the people of the Commonwealth. The decision she was about to make, to save Danse, it _wasn't_ a mistake. She didn't have to fix this choice afterward, because _the Institute_ was their enemy. Synth replacements were _not._

...At least, she _hoped_ they weren't.

Ruby took a deep breath before swinging her rifle out and stepping into the room, sweeping the area. She caught a glimpse of orange jumpsuit through a hole in the wall, and slowly advanced through a passage to the room.

She didn't say a word to him. Kept her face neutral and her rifle up, staring at Danse.

"I'm not surprised Maxson sent you," he said, standing at ease in front of her. Looked right back at her without a single emotion in his face. He was... unafraid. She had to match that bravery, to make things right.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her chin wobbled. Couldn't―couldn't bring herself to say anything, right away. _You aren't helpless,_ she told herself. _And you're not afraid―_

"I didn't _know."_ Danse's voice was quiet. "I thought synths were the enemy. I never expected to hear that I was one of them."

Ruby breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself. She believed him. In all of her time spent combing the wastes, she'd run across many synths―synths that looked like real people, synths that didn't, synths like... synths like that _boy,_ who had been so _perfect,_ but unaware―

"Does Maxson even want me alive?" he asked, resigned.

He'd lost hope. Ruby's heart sank. She _had_ to, now. Had to keep him alive. There was no other choice for her to make.

"No," she said, as calmly as she could manage. "...But I'm hoping there's a way out."

He looked perturbed. "Don't be ridiculous, Ruiz."

"You told me once, that you didn't want another friend's death on your conscience," she said, as determinedly as she could. "Did you stop to think _I_ might not, either?"

"Look..." Danse made a pained face, and looked away. "I'm not blind to the fact that this must be difficult for you. I wish Maxson had sent someone else."

She couldn't agree with that. If it had been someone else, he would _already_ be dead. He might be resigned to his fate, but she was _not._

"But that doesn't change a thing," he added, his voice hard. "I'm a synth, which means I need to be destroyed." He turned his head back to her. "If you betray your orders, you're not only betraying Maxson, you're betraying the Brotherhood of Steel and everything it stands for."

Ruby snorted, and finally lowered her rifle. "Honestly, Danse," she said, chastising him. "You really _are_ terrible at talking to people." She put the rifle on her back, shaking her head. "Do you remember the last conversation we had?"

"I do," he said, his eyebrows drawing together. "I fail to see how that affects this conversation. Synths can't be trusted, Ruiz. I am not the exception to the rule."

She stared at him for a moment. Tried to think of how to broach the topic of saving him, without making things worse. Danse was a straight line, a connection from point A to point B without deviation. ...If she spoke to him as he spoke to her, _maybe―_

"You're concerned about me," she stated. It was a blunt fact. She knew he'd been the first to find her, when she needed a steady hand to guide her; he'd made it clear he considered himself her friend; he'd helped her to understand why she had to be firm in her actions. He wouldn't have―have gotten out of his power armor the night on the bridge, and tried to console her, if he _didn't_ care.

She glanced at Hancock, who had been standing silently behind her. He smiled, gently, and nodded at her. Ruby turned back to Danse. If Hancock approved, she was golden. His _heart_ wouldn't let her down. Never had, before.

"You've _always_ been concerned about me," she told Danse. "I don't think you would've tried to make me feel better, if you didn't."

He didn't reply, dark eyes considering her silently. Ruby crossed her arms over her chest, remembering how tough it could be to talk down the opposing side in the courtroom. When she did the sort of thing she was doing now, for a living. Talking him out of his resigned nature should be no more harder than making an emphatic closing argument.

 _You got this, Ruby. Do your thing. Danse is your friend, and you owe him this._

"You worried that I would betray the Brotherhood, once before. You worried that I was going to make an enemy of you and of Maxson, and you worried that _you_ would have to kill _me."_ She sighed, and smiled sadly at him. "The empathy that you're showing me? It's a _human_ emotion, Danse."

Danse stared back at her for a moment. "I appreciate what you're trying to do," he said, in a low voice. "But I've made my decision. I'm ready to accept the consequences of my true identity."

Ruby pressed her lips together, looking him directly in the eyes. Of all the outcomes she'd imagined, she hadn't thought he would want to go so... willingly. Even a synth should have the will to live, the desire to stay alive―

"Maxson's ordered you to kill me," Danse said, as strongly as she'd ever heard him speak. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to stand in your way."

 _"No."_ Ruby lowered her arms. "I won't do it, Danse."

He sputtered, looking incredulous. "I can't believe you would risk your life just to keep me alive―"

Hancock started laughing, behind Ruby. "Seriously? Why would _Ruby_ risk her life for someone?" He snorted. "Not even a synth is _that_ dumb."

 _"John,"_ Ruby said, to the side. A quiet warning not to screw it up; he knew he should behave. Ruby wouldn't fault him for his smart aleck comments, but she really didn't need it right now.

"Why would you do that for me?" Danse asked her, looking concerned.

"You talked about _sacrifice,_ before," she told him, carefully. "How we expect sacrifice, to have safety." Ruby stared at him, tiredly. "I've already lost my family, Danse." She heaved a painful sigh. "I would risk _any_ danger, it if meant I stayed the sacrifice of a friend."

Ruby kept her eyes on Danse, letting her face show the emotions that were building in her chest. If she _did_ lose him―after losing Nate, after losing Shaun, and after finding everything gone to hell―if she lost _Danse,_ right now, she had no one left who would keep her from going off the deep end.

It was _her_ turn to take, and not give. She was taking Danse out of harm's way. Because _she_ wanted him to live.

Ruby sniffled, feeling her chin wobbling again. She blinked rapidly, trying to stem the tears. "I―" she started, hearing her voice wavering. "Danse―"

"You're right," Danse said. "How could I have been so blind?" He looked appropriately chastised, a pained expression on his face. "I should consider how my death might affect the people who care about me."

Ruby sputtered out a laugh. Still _Danse,_ no matter what. She wiped her face, roughly.

"Perhaps now that you've opened my eyes, I can consider my next move," he said, gently but proudly.

"...Whatever it takes," Ruby replied, "I'll be there with you, Danse."

Danse gave her a friendly smile. "Thank you, Ruiz. But I have my own path to follow. The only clear choice is for me to leave the Commonwealth."

 _What?_ Ruby sucked snot up into her head and stared at him, disbelievingly.

"Take my holotags. Use them to prove your mission was a success or Maxson will just send someone else to hunt me down." He held out the tags to her, hands steady. Ruby's hands started to shake.

She _couldn't._

"C'mon, Ruby," Hancock urged, behind her. "Take them and let's go."

"I agree," Danse said, nodding to Hancock. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Ruby reached out, hands shaking so badly she didn't think she could keep the tags in her grip once she had them, and allowed him to drop them into her palm. She felt numb. All the tears she had been prepared to cry were gone, drained out of her. She couldn't will herself to talk him out of leaving―

Not after―after― _everything._ She would be losing him if he left, just as if he died―

She wasn't _strong_ enough. Everything that had happened between them, all the scrapes he'd pulled her out of, every heartfelt and awkward conversation―she still wasn't strong enough to handle the pain.

She _needed_ him to stay. But he was going to _leave._

Danse smiled again, and started walking past her. Ruby stared at her palm, at the tags resting up against her wedding ring, at the two metals gleaming under florescent lighting.

"Hancock," she mumbled, closing her hand over the tags and letting the edges dig into her palm.

"Yeah," he asked, coming up beside her.

"...How many chems does it take to forget everything?"

He stared at her for a moment. "You can't run away, Ruby," he said, quietly, and put a hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward. "It only gets harder to _forget."_

* * *

 _"How dare you betray the Brotherhood!"_

Danse blinked, throwing a hand up against the bright sun as he exited the bunker. Ruiz stumbled out behind him, followed by the ghoul, squinting at the dramatic difference of light.

Elder Maxson stood in front of them. He'd... not expected to see the Elder. But it didn't surprise him. Maxson had come to monitor Ruiz, after her failure at tracking down Dr. Li inside the Institute and after his―

He cringed at himself. After the revelation that he was a _synth._ He'd picked Ruiz out of the wastes, himself. Maxson had every right to imagine that Ruiz would be a spy, just as he... probably _was._

Damned if he knew _what_ he was, anymore. But he wasn't going to live much longer. The appearance of Elder Maxson solved everyone's problems neatly. Everyone, except for―

 _Ruiz._ He shot a glance at her. She looked dazed, her hands still shaking, her eyes on the ground.

He knew he had to take the fall for her. She was shaken up by this whole situation, more so than he'd ever thought possible. Even as friends, she cared deeply for him and he would _not_ let her be in the wrong for that.

"It's not her fault. It's mine," he said, staring down Maxson.

"I'll deal with you in a moment," Maxson said furiously, pointing at him. "Knight! Why has this―this _thing_ not been destroyed?"

Ruiz turned her head to him, wearily, looking for all the world like she had when she returned from the Institute―her face was broken, all hope gone from her eyes. She opened her mouth, and closed it. "He's still―" she quavered.

Maxson interrupted. "Danse isn't a man, it's a _machine._ An automaton _created_ by the Institute. Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine. The two were never meant to intertwine. The Institute has taken the _sanctity_ of human life and _corrupted―"_

"He's still alive... because you're _wrong_ about him," she said, suddenly. Her voice was frail, but the underlying strength was apparent.

Danse spoke out before Maxson recovered, to keep the focus off of Ruiz. "After all I've done for the Brotherhood, all the blood I've spilled in our name, how can you say that about me?"

Maxson took the bait. "You're the physical embodiment of what we hate _most,"_ he spat, glaring at Danse. "Millions... perhaps even billions, died because science outpaced man's restraint. Can't you see the same thing is happening again?!"

He raised his hand to his eyes, as he stared hatefully at Danse. Danse stared back at him, remembering the past. _Knowing_ that what Maxson said was true. _Not knowing..._ how to defend himself, properly, against this final threat.

He should not have listened to Ruiz. This would have been much simpler, if he had not allowed her to convince him that he might escape. He wouldn't blame her for the sentiment, but... now, he had no choice _but_ to fight.

"You're a single bomb in an arsenal of thousands preparing to lay waste to what's left of mankind," Maxson hissed, not moving his eyes from Danse's face.

Ruiz snapped her head up, regaining that strength that Danse knew she possessed. "Danse wants to _save_ mankind, not destroy it!" she protested, fiercely.

"You're as delusional as you are insubordinate!" Maxson turned back to Ruiz. He put a finger in her face. "Those ethics that it's striving to champion aren't even it's own. They were artificially inserted in an _attempt_ to have it blend into society."

Danse narrowed his eyes at the Elder. Ruiz was still trying to defend him―even though she had no need to do so. He couldn't let her do that. This was his decision, not hers. His choice to face down the fate he knew he might receive, should he step out of the bunker.

Ruiz may have inspired him with her hope... but _he_ could handle the rest, alone.

"It's true," he said, his voice subdued. "I was built within the confines of a laboratory, and some of my memories aren't my own." He grew more confident. "But when I saw my brothers dying at my feet, I felt sorrow. When I defeated an enemy of the Brotherhood, I felt pride." He looked up at Maxson, feeling that pride swelling in his chest.

Maxson glared at him without giving quarter. Danse held a hand to his head. "Don't you understand? I thought I was _human,_ Arthur." He lowered his hand and made a fist. "From the moment I was taken in by the Brotherhood I've done absolutely _nothing_ to betray your trust, and I never will."

"It's too late for that, now." Maxson looked at Ruiz. "I don't intend to debate this any longer. My orders _stand."_

Ruiz looked sick to her stomach, her face going pale under the hot sun. Danse wished, for a moment, that he could express himself better. To tell her that he understood, and that she should not lose her hope because she lost this fight―

He smiled to himself, sadly. Even at his death, he was still proud of her tenacity. Of that strength she held. And he... knew that his death would affect her. There was no other logical conclusion to the situation, given their camaraderie.

"Its all right, Ruiz. We did our best." She looked at him, her eyes shining. She still looked sick to her stomach. Danse breathed out, slowly. "Know that I am going to my grave with no anger and no regrets," he said.

 _"Touching,"_ Maxson snapped. "Either you execute Danse, or _I_ will, Knight."

Ruiz kept her eyes on Danse for a moment longer, then blinked rapidly and turned to Maxson.

"I have done a great many things for the Brotherhood," she began, her voice growing more firm as she spoke. "I have fought beside its Knights, beside its Paladins; you owe me this chance to speak my mind." She stood up straighter and stared Maxson in the eyes.

Maxson looked in her eyes, and conceded. "Very well. I'm _listening."_

"All the battles _I've_ fought for―for _you,_ for my brothers and sisters aboard the Prydwen," she began, slowly. "You _know_ I will do anything that is necessary to _save their lives._ Danse has saved lives of _countless_ soldiers, more than I can begin to conceive."

Danse knew this to be true. But his chapter of life was ending, and she would go on to save many more than he would. He couldn't look at her, watching her throw her reputation onto the fire along with his life. Couldn't watch her ruining what she had fought for, so hard―

But he couldn't look away from her, the sparkling green fire in her eyes as she stared Maxson down without blinking. Ruiz was determined and unafraid.

"Now," she told Elder Maxson, "it's time _you_ saved his."

She did not need to worry. She did not _need_ the Brotherhood to help her save the Commonwealth.

She could do it _on her own._


	9. Then Speak!

Note: Today is the one year anniversary of publishing my first story on FFNet! Technically, I wrote a few other stories _before_ March 23, 2015, but officially, this is the first publish date! **743,290 words** published in the last year, thank you guys so much for your reviews and favorites!

Butterfly Stitches is my **7th** most popular story (in the short time it's been here) out of **23 _total_ ** stories. I'm so glad you all enjoy it. This is fairly short for BS chapters, but is the wrap up for the previous chapter. ( _minor edit, I don't proofread well_ )

* * *

Really, **_thank you all for reading!_**

* * *

 _"The only reason you're still alive... is because of her."_

He couldn't believe it.

Danse watched Elder Maxson turn and walk away, walking slowly and determinedly, before he turned to Ruiz. She'd put her hands on her hips and was staring at the Elder, her mouth pinched together. He looked back to watch Maxson entering his Vertibird, acting almost indifferent to what had just happened.

What _had_ happened...? He couldn't process the entire event without feeling confusion. ...Ruiz had saved the life of a synth who she _rightly_ should have destroyed. But why?

He knew she meant what she had told him. About sacrifices, about friends. About losing him in addition to losing her family. She'd nearly let loose a stream of tears when she first saw him, inside the bunker. Ruiz being so close to tears again... for someone who _wasn't_ her late husband, or her lost son, brought to mind thoughts that he didn't dare think.

He was not so oblivious to think that her executing him _wasn't_ an arduous task. A hard decision to make, to follow her orders; an even harder one to defy those orders. Ruiz had said before that she needed someone to talk to that wasn't her boss, or a hired gun. She'd wanted a friend, and he had tried his best to provide that.

But he was... he was not able to understand why she would cry for him. Why she would see him and evince the same reaction as she had when she'd cried for her husband and for Shaun. Surely, she couldn't―she wouldn't be able to feel so strongly for someone, after her life had been ripped from her hands. He would never think that. No matter his own feelings for Ruiz, which had been steadily progressing to a level he was uncomfortable with and unsure how to express.

Her emotions, whatever she felt, were clearly strong enough for her to brave the wrath of Elder Maxson. Danse had told her not to go against orders, not to risk the chance. He had been satisfied that they'd done their best. He was ready to die, in that moment.

He'd asked her to destroy him. And she'd refused.

Her feelings would not allow her to do so. Danse remembered how he'd felt when he tried to convince her not to make an enemy of Maxson―

 _Maxson._ The Elder held no love for him. No matter how Danse felt, he was no longer Brotherhood. No matter how much history he had with Arthur, he was not the person who had made that history, nor was he the person who had joined the Brotherhood upon hearing Maxson's hope-filled speech. That person had been replaced.

Danse was not _real._

He felt ill, thinking about it. He was... he had _never_ been Brotherhood. It had all been a lie, and the person he'd replaced was―

He pushed the thought from his mind.

Ruiz still felt so strongly for him, so much so that she would put herself in harm's way for him. Ruiz had saved his life and damn near made herself into an enemy of the Brotherhood, just as he'd feared. She'd stood against the hatred and she had taken it down. As with every other problem he had seen her go up against, including her grief, she had fought and she had _won._

...Perhaps what she'd meant, when she spoke of the intent of the Brotherhood, was that the Commonwealth needed less strong-arming and more people who were willing to put themselves against the indiscriminate violence of the wastes.

It was certainly her most _effective_ tactic.

There was no sound until the Vertibird took to the air, Maxson leaving them to their individual fates. Danse's fate would not continue with the Brotherhood. But Ruiz's would. She would go on to excel in her career, if she so chose.

He honestly hoped she would continue. Her words had enlightened _him_ to an alternate solution to the problems of the Commonwealth. The fact that she was able to sway _Maxson,_ at all―and the somewhat-pacific departure as a result of those words―

To convince such a hard man, capable of leading an enormous amount of people, that he should give mercy to the enemy―was a strength worthy of utmost respect. Thank God she was on the right side. Such a capacity for speech was something to be _feared._

Danse fully believed that she could shift the power structure of the Brotherhood with little effort. He now felt that might be necessary, for the future. For her _own_ future.

He was still proud of her. Was still... negotiating with his own feelings for her. But he was most certainly proud of who she had become, through what trials she had weathered.

 _And_ he was thankful that she had saved his life.

Danse breathed out, then turned to Ruiz. He stared at her, trying to order his thoughts enough that he could thank her properly. She watched the Vertibird as it flew away, her eyes narrowed into slits. She was breathing a little harder than she ought to have been, her hands slowly clenching into fists.

"Brother, you're in for it, now," the ghoul muttered, standing behind them both. Danse looked to him with a frown, wondering what he meant―

Ruiz spun on Danse, grabbed him under his chin by his cap and pushed him into the wall of the bunker, her teeth bared and jaw clenched. Danse was too surprised to react, letting her shove him into the concrete with an astonished grunt. Her fingers dug into the fabric at his throat, sharp nails pressing into his skin.

"You are _not leaving!_ Do you understand me?" she hissed at him, looking furious. _"You will not leave the Commonwealth!"_

"..." Danse opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Stared at her shining eyes and let the thump of his heart fill his chest. Her fingers were warm against his skin, making his head fill up with those undefinable emotions he was terrible at conveying. He didn't like that, didn't understand it―

If his emotions were... if everything that he _was_ had been programmed, he supposed he had no _choice_ but to appreciate Ruiz. He had been created using the technology her son helped to perfect. He would not put it past the shady practices of the Institute to have programmed him with some sort of _predisposition_ toward admiring her.

Danse sincerely hoped that was not the case. She did not deserve to be played for a fool, once again, nor did she deserve the horrible realization that she had put worthwhile emotion and trust into someone― _something_ ―designed to―

His role in the battle between the Institute and the Brotherhood was... what? It was probable that he was designed to provide intelligence about the Brotherhood. To determine the threat of the Brotherhood toward the Institute. Such a shameful purpose, he didn't wish to contemplate.

Danse sighed. "Ruiz," he started, his voice strained. _"I―"_

She pulled him forward, and slammed him into the wall again, her angry eyes filling up with tears. "You will **_not_** leave the Commonwealth!" she repeated. Her voice was thick with the emotion he had seen roiling in her eyes, when she found him inside the bunker.

He stared at her, unsure what to say. She always _had_ been better than he, at speaking her mind. It would be best to let her have her say, before he replied.

He doubted he could form a coherent sentence with her so close to him, at any rate. She was an attractive woman, and he would be stupid to not acknowledge that. Her hands were so warm, her body shaking from the agitation... he did not enjoy this version of Ruiz.

"Look, I don't―" she breathed out noisily, closing her eyes and clenching her fingers more tightly on his collar. "I don't care what you _think_ is best. I don't care if you are a _synth,_ or a _Super Mutant,_ or―if you're the _mayor of some bumfuck town in the middle of Boston!"_

Hancock snorted indignantly, grumbling under his breath. _"Bumfuck,_ what the shit, _thanks_ a fucking _lot,_ Ruby―"

Ruiz ignored him, breathing out hot air onto Danse's face. "You need to stay _here,_ Danse," she said, as seriously as he'd ever heard her... immediate events included. _"I_ need you... to stay... _here."_

The silence that drew out onto the air was a long one. Danse wondered if she would ever open her eyes, as he studied her face and watched the tiny twitches that strong emotion brought. He could see the line of moisture pooling and falling from the edges of her eyelashes. She was crying for him, again.

God, he really hoped he _hadn't_ been programmed to love her.

* * *

Ruby couldn't hold the tears back, anymore. The altercation with Maxson had taken every last bit of her willpower and now she was pissed, shaken, and crying. Crying unabashedly, like she had so many times before, in front of the Paladin―

 _Not a Paladin anymore._ Ruby sucked snot up into her head and tried to pull herself together. It didn't matter if she cried. Danse wouldn't understand _why,_ anyway. He―he wasn't the kind to see why. It had taken him so long to understand her problems, _before._

She didn't really understand them, herself. Didn't understand how she could learn that he was a synth and _still_ have the same feelings for him. Still feel as she had... and _why_ she'd wanted to save him, even though it had been a huge risk for her, for the people she was representing.

It would have been the _worst_ decision for her to make, if she hadn't been able to talk Maxson into backing down. She'd put not only her _own_ life on the line to keep Danse safe, but the lives of every person in the Commonwealth. Preston, the Minutemen, every settler who'd ever _trusted_ her... all the people she'd tried to _help―_

It could have been the _stupidest_ thing she'd ever done, _including filling out that goddamned Vault paperwork!_

Ruby pulled Danse back again, weakly pushing him into the wall for a third time. She leaned forward, pressed down by the incredible _relief_ that she felt. Relief that she was―as Danse had said, able to handle her problems―even if she felt completely drained. Relief that, as _she'd_ wanted, he hadn't been sacrificed.

Finally, something had gone her way. She'd almost started to lose hope.

His hands moved to her shoulders, holding her up as she leaned forward. Ruby gasped out a shudder and let him take her weight, lowering her head even more. "I need you to _stay,"_ she repeated, her voice faint and crackling.

"That is an _excellent_ idea," he said, a smile in his tone. "I didn't intend to stay at this listening post for the rest of my life. But it will have to do."

Ruby opened her eyes wider, looking up at him in astonishment. How―how could he still think she wouldn't want him to travel with her? God, she'd never understand him―or even why she like him, as awkward as he could be―

"Come with me," she pleaded. _"Please."_

"You heard Maxson," he said, firmly. "You have to report to the Prydwen. If I show my face there, I'll be shot. I won't risk that." He kept his eyes on hers.

Of _course_ he expected her to continue working with the Brotherhood. He really couldn't think any other way. She was thankful for his stubborn nature. Another wave of relief washed over her. To know he was still himself, even if it was so incongruous to his existence... was comforting.

"I don't want to go back to the Prydwen," she mumbled, blinking back fresh tears. God, why couldn't she stop crying? It was so silly, feeling so relieved that he was going to live―and that he was going to stay in the Commonwealth―

"I'll stay here and try to make this bunker livable," he said, turning his head to look at the building. "When you need me, you know where I'll be."

Ruby didn't think she had any willpower left in her, after what had happened, but somehow she managed to stay on topic. "Come with me," she said, again.

"Ruiz," he chided, turning his gaze back to her.

"I can't do this by _myself,_ Danse," she muttered. _"You know_ I can't."

"I know you _can,_ Ruiz," he said, but there was an odd tone to his voice. "But if you have a moment..." He made a thoughtful noise. "I have something _personal_ I'd like to discuss."

Ruby blinked away the last wave of tears, momentarily jarred by his words. "What?" she asked, confused.

"I got the fucking _hint,_ already," Hancock suddenly snapped. She jerked her head to the side, staring at him. She'd almost forgotten he was there―

"I know when I ain't welcome. Good _luck."_ Hancock turned and started to stalk off, boots hitting the ground angrily.

"John, I'm so _sorry―"_ she started, but let her words fade away when she heard the rattle of a Mentats tin and an unfriendly curse aimed in their direction. Ruby watched him walking off, frowning. _Shouldn't have said that bit about Goodneighbor._ She'd have to apologize to him and hope he forgave her idiotic insult brought on by the stress of the moment.

Once Hancock disappeared into the trees, she turned her attention back to Danse. Realized her hands were still jammed into the cap that he wore and jerked then away quickly, flushing in embarrassment. Danse let his hands fall from her shoulders to rest at his side.

She avoided making eye contact. "What did you want to talk about, Danse?" she asked, carefully staring at his chin. She'd not meant to be so forward. The heat of the moment had made her lose her head.

"I'm sorry you have to see me at my worst instead of at my best," he said, slowly. "What has happened, what is bound to happen... is _not_ what I would have intended for you, or for myself, to encounter."

"I've only _ever_ seen you at your best," Ruby told him, truthfully. "You stuck by me through _my_ worst. I wouldn't be here, if you hadn't refused to give up on me." And that was the truth. It would have been so much easier to follow through on Maxson's orders if Danse hadn't been so willing to work with her through her fugues.

...Now she felt _terrible_ for insulting Goodneigbor. She wouldn't be out here, anyway, if Hancock hadn't made defying her orders seem so worthwhile. Maybe she could find some Daytripper or something, and get on his good side. She sighed in frustration.

"I don't intend to let you wander the wastes alone," Danse said, shifting his weight. "I will go with you, back to Sanctuary Hills. But I need _time,_ Ruiz."

She hazarded a look upward. Didn't like to see the expression on his face. Obviously, he would have to come to terms with himself. With being a synth. As she'd come to terms with her own troubles.

She felt as awkward as he must, most of the time. She hadn't even thought about his feelings, when she approached him. Hadn't though he would give in, like he had, and definitely hadn't planned for how _he_ would feel after she'd saved him.

He must be confused. _Angry._ She wouldn't blame him.

"Take all the time you need, Danse," she said. A stray thought crossed her mind, and she smiled in spite of herself. "But... if you need to speak, then _speak."_

Danse's face contorted, briefly. He chuckled, and a wide smile spread over his face. "Thank you, Ruiz," he told her, proudly. "I have never been so grateful to have my own words come back on me."

Ruby nodded, sighing. "C'mon, Danse. Let's get out of here."

"I couldn't agree more, Ruiz."


	10. Hope

Note: I'm at a stalemate. Most everyone I know IRL is voting for "Nice Mouth McSwooshy Hair"―the nickname my sister gave to Danse―but I feel there might still be something I can do for MacCready. I haven't been working on his character as much as I ought to, as I started the story after the established character quests for him.

That is not good, and I want to work on that. Taking advice, I also upped his swearing a bit. If it doesn't work as well, you'll have to let me know.

I _have_ almost convinced myself to write another story with him as main love interest, if anyone is looking forward to that. (Maybe drop me a line and let me know what kind of SS you'd like to see with him, hey? I welcome all kinds of reviews and PMs.)

* * *

MacCready hit the ground running when Ruby did, moving away from the bullets that whizzed through the trees toward them. Whoever it was shooting at them was too far away to see, and he'd weathered enough trips in the wastes with her to know she was going to duck and run. When the enemy could see you but you couldn't see them, she argued, the bad guys had a _distinct_ advantage.

He'd turned for a brief moment, looking through the fallen trees covered with moss and hoping he could figure out who was firing at them. Ruby was ducking through the trees with well-practiced movement, jumping fallen logs and brush easily and not bothering to look back. Never mind that they would have to come back through the area, to go back to the Hills. Better to deal with the threat head on―

Couldn't tell who it was, though. MacCready gave up and kept his eye on her as they fled through the rocks and bushes, trying to keep up with Ruby―that was an impossible task, sometimes―and he wasn't paying full attention to what was in front of him.

That's when he got a face full of tree. One of the branches she pulled to the side, as she ran over the rocks and downed trees, came back on him and smacked him flat in the face. _Would almost be funny if we weren't being shot at!_

He ended up on his ass and sore from taking a jab to the eye, and when he sat up Ruby was gone. He couldn't see or hear her moving around and the gentle breeze that swept through the trees had died down, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Goddammit. Not the _first_ time that had happened, but he didn't like it anyway.

MacCready pushed himself up from the ground, blinked away the pain, and looked around. She'd been running north, toward higher ground. Nothing much out that way but for Stingwings and the occasional ghoul.

"Ruby!" he yelled, brushing his ass free of dirt. "Hey!"

No answer. Well, that was just great. MacCready adjusted his hat over his eyes and squinted. It was still daylight out, so he should be able to catch up with her pretty easy. He sighed and rubbed his neck.

It was funny. Ruby had swapped out her Brotherhood uniform for the first time in ages, choosing to go out wearing her Vault suit. MacCready's eyes drank in the sight like a thirsty dog even if he didn't want to, because he'd been _right._ She _did_ pull off the blue and yellow jumpsuit as good as her dead husband did. _Maybe even better..._

It was funny, though, because she was wearing something so highly visible and now he'd up and lost her. Lost her and gotten a tree branch to the face for his troubles. Felt just like the _last_ time he'd tried to watch her back. And _sucked_ at that, badly.

MacCready didn't want to think about _that_ anymore than he wanted to be out in the wastes, alone. He started walking, trying to distract himself. Moving over the dirt and brush and keeping his eyes peeled for Ruby, he searched his mind for something else to think about.

...Thought about Vaults. Specifically, about Ruby's Vault. 111 was almost pristine inside, kept safe from the decay that had affected so many other Vaults. Kept Ruby safe, alone for all those years, trapped on ice in one of the most fucked-up experiments he'd ever heard about.

'Course, everything in the wastes was one shade more or less fucked-up than everything else. He wouldn't have been able to handle what she went through, on his own. Like she had... until, he guessed, she'd met Preston. The Ruby he'd met, when he first saw her, was a lot quieter and a lot more sad. Her hope was all but gone at that time, but she still tried. Still kept _moving._

Not like him. He'd lost hope, before he'd met Ruby. Somehow, along the way, she'd made him remember that hope. And damn, was he ever glad for that.

MacCready remembered the day she showed up in Goodneighbor, how she'd watched Winlock and Barnes talking shit at him. She'd been quiet, watched them scuttling away like the good little radroaches they were, then wondered aloud if she dared to hire him. It wasn't amusing, really, but he'd let it go. She was a pretty woman. He knew his weaknesses.

"How do I know won't end up with a bullet in my back?" he'd asked her.

"All I can give you is my word... and a bunch of caps," she'd answered. Nothing special about how she'd said it, really. But that tired look in her eyes when she'd paid him, and the tiny half-smile she'd given him... she didn't act like anyone else in the Commonwealth. Almost like she was from a whole different world―

MacCready paused for a moment to stare up at the sky, frowning. He'd figured she was a scavenger when she started hauling all that junk, deliberately grabbing everything in sight. Didn't know why she was willing to pay him the high price of two hundred fifty caps just to watch her ass, until they'd found those raiders at the Corvega plant.

Ruby hadn't been great at shooting people. He was. He didn't worry about it, he just did the job. Her being so bad at combat reminded him of Lucy, reminding him of when she'd tried her hand at it, and his brain kicked him in the ass about Duncan.

He didn't know what to do, at the time. Tried to figure out what in the hell he was gonna do about Duncan's medicine, about Med-Tek. His best bet would have been to hire Gunners to get him into the hospital, but after he broke his contract―well, that was a bet he couldn't make anymore. Not the first time in his life he'd been at a disadvantage, but it _was_ the first time he'd been without a real friend to get him out of a jam.

After the Corvega plant and him seeing how screwed Ruby was... after going 'round the Commonwealth with her, watching her speaking to people and earning money and arranging shipments back to some place she called Sanctuary Hills... after going to the Hills and learning from Piper what her deal was and finding the community that looked up to her as a savior and guide...

MacCready had been surprised that she was such a big shot. And after a few impromptu lessons while out on scrap runs, she even turned out to be a decent shot. She was quiet but firm, soft but hard. Not all all what he'd expected from the demure woman who approached him in the Third Rail.

Every time she went out without him―she brought back someone new. Someone important to the wastes, someone strong like she was. Made him feel better about her hiring him. A little ego stroking was what he'd needed, back then.

Slowly, he'd come to the realization that he _might_ trust her just enough. She _might_ understand his situation. She _might_ be able to get him out of his scrape with the Gunners. He'd tried on the idea, when he felt his hope had reached a higher point, and hoped it fit.

Ruby was soft-spoken but she came down like a mini-nuke on the Gunners, after he worked up the gumption to ask her about it. She'd rigged up a double barrel and went to town on the Mass Pike Interchange, but refused to let him have any of the grenades she was tossing at those assholes.

Didn't blame her for that. There _had_ been an incident with a Molotov cocktail and a fuel tank, resulting in some singed hair and a burnt hat, that took him _ages_ to live down. He grimaced at himself. He could shoot, but explosives weren't really his forte.

MacCready paused his thoughts for a moment, paying attention to the area. The air around him shifted slightly, moving in a different direction. He poiked his head out over a sharp outcropping of rocks and saw the sinkhole in front of him, water draining steadily into the bottom. He moved around the left side, trying to keep himself from sliding on the dry ground. Didn't need to get any more dirty than he was, already.

Ruby fixed up his coat for him, too, after she made him her semi-permanent scrap run partner. Destroyed the original unintentionally, but made him a new one without saying a single word. Didn't tell him how she'd managed to fit it so well, especially with the special material sewn into it. He never was one to turn down a freebie, though.

Everything she did, she did well... even if she screwed it up at first. Kept going, made it better, even if she hurt inside. He wished he were like that. Might feel a little better about―about Lucy, about not being able to take on Med-Tek without Ruby―about being useless―

He didn't want to think about that, either, but his brain wasn't gonna let him stop. Got stuck like that after Lucy, and Ruby's problem up at the Vault made it flare up again. Wasn't her fault. He was the one thinking about it, and he needed to let it go so he could move on. Move on like Ruby had, after losing her husband and her son.

He hadn't lost Duncan. Thanks to _her._

MacCready rubbed his eyes and stemmed the emotion that started swirling inside of him. He _was_ useless. No one wanted him around, when all he did was complain. Liked him just fine, but never wanted to count on him for the important stuff.

Like Ruby, when she'd landed in his lap. He'd tried to show her he was willing. And she'd gone quiet. Shut him off. Barely talked to him for a long time. He'd pushed the issue, and went nowhere with it. She was occupied by her grief even when he'd hit on her, and that made him―

Feel even _more_ useless.

MacCready stopped himself, looking around the area and squinting at the setting sun. Had to find Ruby, and soon. Wasn't gonna leave her behind, and it would be too hard to see in the dark. As bad as things were between the two of them―it could be a lot worse.

He really, _really,_ didn't want to be _alone,_ right now. Even if she hated his guts.

As he was staring around, trying to figure out where she might've gone, something hit him in the side. He spun with his weapon out, searching for the culprit. Buzzing caught his ears, a quick motion in his periphery alerting him to―

 _Stingwings._ Like he _needed_ to get poisoned today on top of everything else―he aimed and brought it down quickly, then turned and looked around for more. His vision swam, the world unfocusing around him like he'd dunked his head in water. ...Damn thing did get him! _Shit!_

A noise behind him made him spin around again, hitting whatever was there with his pistol out of caution. A yelp and the surprisingly soft resistance to the smack made him pause, blinking rapidly and trying to focus his attention on what―who―he'd hit.

Ruby? Her blue and yellow suit stuck out in his blurred vision under the expected blonde hair and wide eyes, now just a dark blob in her face.

 _Damn!_ MacCready tried to think of something to say―an apology, at least―

She backed up in a surprised jerk, wobbling dramatically, and registered the pain with a funny look on her face. She stumbled, as he tried to find the words to say sorry―then she started falling backward―

It sort of happened in slow motion. MacCready snapped a hand out and grabbed her with one hand, holding her wrist with the sort of force that he reserved for desperate moves, as her feet scrabbled on the loose rocks for purchase. His balance was off from reaching out and he was pulled forward when she fell from the rocks, down toward the sinkhole.

Ruby went limp, probably the best thing she could have done. He tensed up out of habit. When she hit the dirt she was already rolling down to the water, he fell flat onto his face. Mud in his mouth and a bloody nose were the _least_ of his problems, today.

He cursed whoever the hell was out to get him today, as he scraped himself out of the mud. Ruby made a low groaning noise, then rolled onto one side and coughed, as she pushed herself upward. "MacCready," she half-moaned, half-complained. "What the _hell,_ man..."

He felt himself flushing, not only embarrassed but annoyed. For all the times he'd tried to be smooth―for all his attempts to get on her good side... now, he was right back to the time he'd set her on fire with that Molotov. He wasn't gonna live this one down easily, _either!_

He opened his mouth to say something but before he could even begin to apologize, an earth-shattering roar sounded from the nearby crate. Ruby was up on her feet in a second, clumsily pulling her rifle from her side as he tried to dislodge himself from the muck and pull his pistol.

 _Deathclaw!_ Big one, too―it roared, then did what all Deathclaws did and ran straight at the nearest target, bounding powerfully through the mud, even as Ruby let loose a volley of lasers into it's body.

MacCready was up and shooting at it as soon as he was able, even though he could barely aim with mud in his eyes. Dammit―this could end _really_ shittily―

Ruby backed up as fast as she could but the Deathclaw was faster, grabbing her up with one hand and slamming her down into the mud with a sickening thump. MacCready wiped his face and took a chance, aiming right at the damn thing's eye.

Ruby was making breathy noises and thrashing under it's grip when the bullet impacted a thick skull, glancing off the "eyebrow". His well-placed shot distracted it long enough to get Ruby free―she was ignored, the Deathclaw turning it's attention to him for a brief moment, and she wiggled out, rolling to the side and out of the way.

MacCready kept shooting, keeping attention on himself. Ruby fell into the water, away from the Deathclaw, and he smiled grimly to himself. With her out of harm's way, he could focus on saving his _own_ ass. Which meant...

He fled up the side of the sinkhole, trying to stay out of reach of the monster's arms, and turned again to loose more bullets. His gaze slid to the side to see where Ruby was―she wouldn't run off on him in the middle of something this dire, never had―and saw her floundering in the current of the sinkhole, struggling to break free of the powerful suction.

Without a thought, he dodged to the side and down toward the water. If she drowned―didn't want to think about that―

Ruby made a horrible gurgling noise as he tried to grab at her, but―she slipped under the water and into the sinkhole with a strange popping noise, and the Deathclaw was behind him now, feet slapping through the loud rushing waters the sinkhole caused―

He didn't really have a _choice._

MacCready sucked in a breath and dove headfirst into the swirling waters.

* * *

The outcome was probably what he would classify as his _worst nightmare._

Ruby landed, damn near lifelessly, in the pool of water at the base of the sinkhole. He'd come down on top of her, and collided with her, but he wasn't sure if it was the trip down or his landing that caused it. She was unconscious and face down in the water when he collected himself enough to drag her up onto the rocks and panic about the situation.

He didn't know much about first aid. What to do with someone who was knocked out. Could he use a Stimpak to bring them around? What the hell _were_ you supposed to do?

The basin was small but there was enough room to bunker down for a little while. MacCready spent the first few minutes agitated and moving around the room, searching for anything, trying to keep himself occupied so he wouldn't have to think about what was going on. Trying to find something that might job an unused memory and tell him what the right thing to do, was. To make himself feel better―

Stared down at her on the wet rocks, after a time. Tried to figure out what to do, how to wake her up. Felt useless again, didn't want to―didn't want to think he wasn't worth the caps she'd paid much less all the promises he'd made.

 _"I got you, Ruby,"_ echoed through his head. He didn't believe it, anymore. He wasn't able to keep her from getting into trouble.

Ruby was breathing, but raggedly. Her breath sounded crackly, like someone was dragging a stick against a corrugated metal wall, popping noises in her chest. He didn't like _that,_ not one bit. And then―

When it couldn't have gotten much worse, of course it did. It always got worse, when _he_ was around.

The goddamn ghouls in the tunnel beyond the sinkhole basin started making noise. A whole bunch of them, just waiting to tear him and Ruby apart limb by limb.

It was just like _before._

When he'd left Lucy... except this time he could _save her._

He could save Ruby from the ghouls, instead of abandoning her like he had Lucy―like he had when Danse asked for his help that night on the bridge―he could make it better and salvage his own troubles, and kill two birds with one stone, if he _dared to even hope he could―_

He _could_ dare. MacCready loaded his .44 and waited for the first wave of ghouls to arrive, his mouth pinched and face hard. He might be useless...

He _did_ have hope. Ruby had given it _back_ to him.

And he was gonna _keep her safe._


	11. Same

Note: Well, reviewers spake and thus I chose. But! I'm not done yet. ;)

Also I feel bad, I made him cry. :'(

* * *

She was in a lot of pain when she woke up, wet and sore on a hard rock. The rushing sound of the water nearby was loud in her ears, making her head ache worse. Ruby moved her hand out from under her side, pried open a pocket and pulled out a stimpak. ...Only the one left? Damn, it was probably a good thing she'd ended up―wherever _this_ place was―

After she'd injected herself, she felt a little better. She was at least able to push herself up with one hand and rub her eyes free of blurriness. She'd been unconscious... but for how long? Vaguely, she remembered something Nate had said about that. Something about how it wasn't good to be knocked out for even two seconds―

MacCready! _Shit!_ Ruby's head jerked around, looking at the small sinkhole basin, trying to get her bearings. Where was MacCready? They'd―

She groaned and covered her face. Still a lot of pain in her head and her arm was going off like a siren, probably broke it. She tried to remember what had happened.

She'd been running, someone was shooting at them. Lost McCready in the mad dash to get away, going way too far north and losing her bearings. He had always managed to find her when that happened, before, so she'd stopped at the sinkhole and waited. When she'd heard the gunshots, she knew it was him―that .44 of his made a distinctive noise―

Ruby lowered her hands, blinking away the weariness. He'd been shooting at Stingwings. She remembered that. Scared him, or something, he'd lashed out at her when she came up behind him. Knocked her down into the sinkhole.

She remembered thinking that it wasn't fair, how often he ended up accidentally causing her trouble. She wouldn't hold that against him, though. He was really, _really,_ good at playing Whack-A-Mole with bullets and someone's head.

She pushed those thoughts away and tried to collect herself. Okay. She'd been pulled into the sinkhole when the Deathclaw threw her down, she remembered that. She hoped MacCready had gotten out of the way when it was no longer attacking her, because otherwise...

Didn't really want to think about what could happen to someone once a Deathclaw got a hold of them. Ruby looked around the basin for a distraction, and her eyes caught on a mottled green hat lying at the entrance to the exit tunnel.

She got her feet underneath her and pushed herself up, hobbling over to the hat with one arm dangling at her side. Yeah, it was broken. MacCready probably had a couple of stimpaks, he usually kept some squirreled away for a a rainy day. Needed to find him.

She'd broken her ulna playing tennis, once. This felt about the same, really. She'd kill for the chance to go back to those days―when all she had to worry about was getting to practice on time, or if her clothes looked good enough to fit in... or if Nate really _did_ like her as much as he said he did―

Ruby smiled to herself, sadly, and breathed out. Those days were gone. Everything had changed, for the worse. Had to keep moving.

She reached down and picked up the hat, brushing off some mud. MacCready's hat. So where was _he?_ Had he come down into the sinkhole with her or had he lost his hat in the fight with the Deathclaw? Was... he _dead_ up there?

Her chest panged in pain, but she ignored that. She'd almost perfected _that_ art, by now. _Especially_ when it came to thinking about the former Gunner.

She looked up into the tunnel, grabbing out her rifle. Her arm hurt too much to hold it properly. After a moment of trying to adjust herself by leaning on the tunnel wall, she gave up and shouldered it, pulling out a pipe wrench.

It's better than nothing, she thought. She swung it slowly, trying to remember those old tennis lessons. _Just like riding a bike,_ she told herself, making a thoughtful face.

...MacCready probably liked her as much as he said _he_ did, too. Maybe things really _hadn't_ changed that much, after all.

Brandishing the pipe wrench in one hand and squinting into the darkness, Ruby began to creep through the tunnel toward the other end.

* * *

She wasn't expecting what she found. Came up through the tunnel into a small basement with a dryer and a washing machine, eerily reminiscent of her previous thoughts.

 _Laundry,_ Ruby thought. _Laundry never changes._

She had a funny smile on her face that melted away as she noticed the dismembered remains of several ghouls scattered through the room. One of the bodies was a Glowing One, and the luminescent blood glowed brightly in splatters on every wall.

In the middle of the room, MacCready was sitting on the ground with his back to her. He was covered in gore―unsurprising, given the scene―and wasn't moving. She watched him for a moment before she cleared her throat to attract his attention.

"MacCready?" she asked, softly.

He jerked and turned his head to look at her, eyes wide and shining in the dark room. Ruby tucked one corner of her mouth up into a contemplative look and moved forward into the room. "Are... are you okay?" she asked, slightly confused. He didn't really look okay, even though she could barely see him. Only the brightness of his eyes stuck out in the gloom.

"I'm fine," he said, putting his hand down onto the ground and trying to push himself up. "I'm fine." His arm wobbled and slid to the side, and he caught himself before he lost his balance. "I'm fine," he repeated, but his voice was flat.

He definitely wasn't fine. _"MacCready,"_ she muttered, shaking her head and went to his side. "Looks like you took a beating."

"Was only a couple of ghouls," he muttered, slowly wiping his hand on his pants. Ruby stared at his face for a long moment, before she realized―he'd been crying. That was why his eyes were so bright. And... he was trying to hide it from her, too, turning his face away from hers. His expression went dull to stricken, then back.

 _"Nobody wants to see a guy crying,"_ she remembered him saying. She sighed to herself, ran a hand over her face and tried to assess the situation.

 _Good friends listen to your problems, and don't complain._ Ruby laughed inwardly, because―well, that was _all_ MacCready did some days―but he deserved a shoulder to cry on just as much as she had, back when she was upset. It was the least she could do to repay her debt to him, for letting her cry on his shoulder.

"You aren't okay," she said, grabbing his shoulder with her good hand and lowering herself onto her knees. "You've been crying. What's going on?"

 _"Nothing._ Nothing at all," he said defensively, but his voice started shaking again. Ruby clucked her tongue, and patted his jacket pocket, locating his stimpaks. She applied one to his shoulder before she jabbed the injector into her upper arm, hissing in relief as the medicine flooded through her.

"Listen," she told him, once her arm stopped hurting quite so much. "I know you didn't _mean_ to do that, up there. Sometimes things go the wrong way―"

"No," he said, very firmly, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve and looking away from her. "No, I _shouldn't_ have―"

"It's _okay,_ MacCready, really―"

"I keep messing things up," he interrupted again. "Just leave me here. _Go."_

Ruby sat back on her feet and screwed her face up at him. "What?"

"Just― _leave me here,"_ he muttered, looking down.

"I won't do that," she said, confused at his attitude. "Why would I do _that?"_

He didn't answer, just sniffled a little and wiped his nose with his sleeve. She looked over his jacket and frowned, turning on the light of her Pip-Boy to get a better view. Based on the condition he was in, she would have to repair his coat and hope it held up. ...And wash it, he was covered in ghoul entrails and what looked like snot. The stains weren't as bad as the gore, but...

She sighed. Whatever it was, that was running through his head, it was enough to reduce him to this vulnerable state. Ruby remembered feeling that he was the same as Nate, before. It hurt to think about that, but they really _were_ the same.

It never stopped hurting her, that sameness. She still missed Nate so badly her chest wanted to explode in pain. She remembered when he'd woke up with nightmares after being discharged; how he didn't want her to see how badly his nightmares affected him. Seeing that wall come down, how strong he'd been on the outside and how she _never_ thought she'd see him cry―

How shocking it was to watch him crumble in her arms at night, and feeling like she could do _nothing_ to help. It wasn't a good feeling. But she'd never let it get to her, before.

Watching MacCready go through the same thing was just as painful as watching Nate. All she could do was try to be there. Be that shoulder that... that he didn't have, anymore.

"MacCready..." Ruby said, slowly. His head swiveled to look at her and she saw how red his eyes were, lit up with the Pip-Boy light. She kept talking, maintaining eye contact. "I'm not going anywhere. I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me anything," he said, looking away with a shame-filled face. Didn't say anything for a long time, and she'd opened her mouth to speak when he strained out, "...If anyone owes anyone, _I_ owe _you."_

Ruby's eyebrows drew together over her face, confused. _"What―"_

"I do," he said, more firmly. His voice still shook a little, but he clenched a hand into a fist and stared at his feet angrily. "I owe _you. You_ saved _my_ son. And I couldn't... couldn't help you with _Shaun."_

"Finding Shaun was almost impossible," she said, soothingly. "Even the Brotherhood had trouble making that device to get inside. Neither one of us could know what was going to happen once I got in there―"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I―I _promised._ I didn't keep―" MacCready groaned in a low way and closed his eyes. "I _never_ keep my promises."

She frowned. _Was_ he thinking about Lucy? He'd told her about lying to his wife. About wanting to tell her the truth, and about... how she'd died. He might have promised Lucy that he'd keep her and Duncan safe. He hadn't.

Nate made that same promise, too. Ruby swallowed a thick lump in her throat. And _he_ hadn't, either.

MacCready... even though she didn't feel right letting him be there for her, he had been. He'd been there when she didn't need or want it, whether she was grieving in the Vault or thinking about Shaun or even if she was just having a bad day. He _listened_ when she talked even if _she_ didn't hear what she was saying.

Just the same as Danse, but without any connection to her. Without the bond that being in the Brotherhood brought―MacCready had stuck by her side through her troubles, trusted in her without much proof, and put himself out for her to grab.

And she'd... she'd left him hanging. Because she wasn't ready to face that he reminded her so much of the past. Because it didn't feel right to fall in love again―after what _happened―_

MacCready hadn't asked her for much. The ghouls that infested Med-Tek... she was pretty sure he'd been thinking about Lucy when he'd gone there the first time, and it affected him more than he wanted to let on. It was why he'd almost died trying to get in there, she suspected.

She'd felt the same, going into the Institute. Thoughts about Nate, thoughts about Shaun―wanted her son back, some kind of justice for the losses. But all she got was lies and a smug face declaring himself the best hope for the wasteland. She lost _herself,_ that day.

Maybe MacCready felt that way, when he couldn't get Duncan's cure. Maybe her coming along and showing him she wasn't letting Nate's death get her down―that she could keep going even without someone to hold her up―maybe that made him regain the hope Lucy had given him when he was full of doubt for lying to her.

And maybe that was why MacCready felt something for her, too. Because she'd helped him out like Lucy would have, encouraged him to keep going.

...If he was feeling the same as he had for _Lucy,_ right now, for Ruby, on top of all the accidents he caused and them being trapped with those ghouls in this dingy basement―

Well, no _wonder_ he was crying. He must feel as useless as could be. And it certainly wasn't the first time he'd made things difficult.

"You kept your promise to me," Ruby said, as firmly as she could manage around the lump in her throat. "I'm not dead, yet. You shouldn't beat yourself up for this―"

"No," MacCready sighed, his fists shaking. He hit himself in the thigh, angrily. "I meant... I said I _got_ you, Ruby."

She blinked in surprise and squinted at him in the near-darkness. "You― _what?"_

MacCready breathed out through his nose, noisily. "I said I got you," he repeated. "I said I was gonna be there for you." He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness without looking at her.

She didn't know what to say. That―what he'd said back in the Vault, and at Natick―she remembered. She also remembered the wrenching pain her heart that now filled up her chest. _Couldn't_ ignore it, this time.

"You gave me hope," he said, before she could reply. "Hope for Duncan. You helped me, and I figure I owe you something... and I always pay my debts. But all I've done is make a mess of things and―" he hit his leg again, angrily. "And hurt you, and―"

"MacCready, listen to me," Ruby said, pulling herself up as straight as she could. "If you think you're the only person who's messed things up―" she grimaced. "Well, you're wrong. I'll have you know Piper once shot me in the leg, and I'm always being winged by Danse. Him and that damn minigun," she scoffed. She had the scars to prove it, too, and Danse was calmly accepting of the situation because that's what happened in combat.

Friendly fire. MacCready was really _bad_ at friendly fire. "I forgive you for hitting me," she told MacCready, patting his shoulder. "And for setting me on fire. It _happens._ I'm still alive, and that's all that matters."

He looked into the corner of the room, miserably, without saying a word. Ruby moved her hand to his back, adjusting herself to sit down beside him. She put her arm around him and leaned her head down to look at his face like he had, back in the Vault. Tried to remember what he'd said, how that had gone... how to parallel his actions. To make him feel better.

He needed comforting. She didn't know if she _could,_ but she _would_ try.

"Come on," she said, softly. "Least you could do is _talk_ to me."

MacCready loosened up a bit, leaning away from her in a dazed rocking motion, then turned and threw his arms around her. She was taken aback by the quick motion, but the strength with which he held onto her―

It was weird. Pretty much the same as what had happened at the Vault. And―well, it was reversed, but―

"You were thinking about Lucy, weren't you," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his back and holding him gently. "Because of these ghouls?"

A shuddering motion met her questions, his bony nose poking her in her unarmored shoulder. He didn't talk, but she could tell he was crying―her suit was thin and the air in the basement was cold, a chill running through her as she rubbed his shoulder blade in a circle.

"It's okay if you want to be a blubbery mess." She smiled a little, remembering how he'd let her cry on his shoulder. "I promise, I won't say a word about it to _anyone."_

He muffled something into her shoulder and she looked down at his mess of black hair, covered in ghoul guts. Sounded like he was saying something about getting her killed―Ruby chuckled, breathily. "If you think I'm going to let myself get killed by the likes of you, MacCready, you are _sorely_ mistaken."

"You don't understand― _I―"_ he started, and she shushed him.

"I understand," she said. "I know. It's hard. You... you did a lot of things that you didn't want her to know about. You didn't like lying."

"I should have told her the truth," he muffled.

"Yes... but she loved you, anyway." Ruby gingerly patted his hair, searching for a spot that wasn't covered in gore. Seemed impossible. "And this... well, you said it. It won't _kill_ you." She settled her hand on the back of his neck, coughing a little from the smell.

MacCready held onto her for a while longer, the shudders slowly tapering off, before he abruptly pulled away and scooted across the floor away from her. "I'm―I'm sorry," he sniffled, wiping his face. "I shouldn't be acting like..." His face turned a little red.

"It's fine," Ruby said, dropping her hands to her lap. She crinkled her nose at the goop that was now covering her suit. "Everyone needs a chance to let it out. And... I guess we're _even_ now."

"Yeah," he said, wiping his face again. "Yeah, I guess."

"Look, MacCready―" Ruby sighed and looked up at him, tiredly. "I know... there's a lot going _on,_ right now. With, well... with _everything._ But if you need to talk―"

"I'm fine," he said, quickly, pushing himself up from the ground. Looked around the room, jerkily moving around and searching for something. Ruby tilted her head at him, smiled, and held up his hat.

"You should take a bath first," she said, holding it out to him.

MacCready stared at her hand for a brief second before snatching the hat away and jamming it on his head. "Let's just get the hell out of here, okay?" he said, strained.

"Yeah," she agreed, standing up and rubbing her arm. Stimpaks, she thought. Wished they could cure the hurt in her heart.

MacCready took the stairs two at a time, jerking open the door at the top in his rush to get away from the basement. Ruby followed, slowly, hearing rattling chains and a creak as the door opened on the upper floor.

Really wished the Stimpaks could cure the pain caused by the fact that she was definitely falling for the Gunner, despite her efforts not to. Because this... this was going to be a _long_ walk home.

A _really_ long walk.


	12. Damn Fine Apology

Note: I wrote this one blasting Bad Romance and being angry as hell, so no guarantees as to quality... a little long sorry. But it ended really great. :D

Thanks for the review, MizBlueSage! (I know what my kryptonite is)

* * *

He'd gone back to Goodneighbor. Mostly to remind himself who he was, what made him do what he'd done in putting on the coat and becoming Hancock. Let himself be angry that she'd told him what, about the place. He deserved that much, after her comment.

But part of it was him running away, because she made it easy to feel like shit. Her all high and mighty, him the bottom of the barrel. He'd felt like that for a while before they'd talked on the pier, and seeing how easy she talked that Brotherhood fascist out of killing the synth that was Danse―even after doing the drug that he did, and showing him up in that, too―

It was too easy to run. The shit he stepped in the whole way home―yeah, that was shit he'd have to face sooner or later. But not today, and not anytime soon.

If he wasn't so damn sure it was his own shit leaking, he might feel a little better. He was some kind of goddamned zen chem-head bastard, telling Ruby not to run from her pain and hightailing himself home the minute she didn't need him to hold her up anymore. Only good for one-liners, not up to the task of holding his place in her circle. That was John, showing his true colors.

Fucking _John._ Ruby made John come up to the surface. That _hurt._

The stink of the rundown town greeted him as soon as he set foot inside the door, staring down the two open-faced shops and the crackling paint of the Old State House. Home loomed over him, home where he felt like he might not be welcome if he didn't find Hancock again and put on his show.

But it was still _home._ Hancock took a deep breath, reminding himself why he'd come here to _begin_ with. Why he'd stayed. Home smelled like shit. John _was_ shit, when he stepped into Goodneighbor that fateful first time.

Ergo, he _belonged._

That, at least, was simple. Except for that defining night he'd tried to make something better of himself, and stuck to his fucking guns for once, he was worth this place and its people and everything that it stood for. Didn't need some goody-fucking-two-shoes from up north telling him what he was. He knew what he was.

He was Mayor John _Fucking_ Hancock of Goodneighbor, _of_ the people, _for the people._

And he was a _shit_ mayor, but he was _this_ town's shit mayor, goddammit. He didn't belong on the sunny side of the Commonwealth, rollicking in the fucking Hills. He belonged in the grime that stuck to the boots of the Brotherhood of Steel, in the Brahmin shit that kept the traders running back and forth to Bunker Hill, in the chems that made it all the way into Diamond City and lined that fat-ass McDonough's deep pockets.

Couldn't do more than _survive_ in some bumfuck town on the ass-end of Boston, right? That was what she'd implied, insulting his people like that, right? Some stupid little shit-heap, not worth your time, and he was the goddamned mayor of it.

Well, his shit-heap might stink, but he was _proud_ of that shit.

Hancock sauntered back into his element.

* * *

He settled himself back into the same old routine he'd had, telling pretty speeches to the people, keeping the neighborhood watch busy minding the Triggermen and raiders, wandering 'round the Third Rail and hitting up whoever caught his eye. Basically back to being the addict and troublemaker he'd been before.

But no Mentats. Didn't want to think too hard, now. Not after that bit of hard truth Ruby had laid on him. Liked being angry for just a little while, letting his emotions tell him what to do. Tried to forget who John was, to be Hancock for a little while longer. To capture the high of throwing that rat bastard out that window, and the feeling of power that came with seeing all those people watching him in his moment of triumph.

All the drugs let him run away from John, and John wasn't very happy with that. Didn't want to disappear into the haze and never be seen again. Not after being woke up by that woman―and Hancock hated that, being reminded of how vulnerable he'd been. Being John might have forced him to turn into Hancock, but he didn't want to end up back in those shoes.

John was as much a rat bastard as the ones he'd run away from in Diamond City. Those sort of heavy thoughts kept him awake at night, made it hard to lose himself to the drugs.

But he couldn't really forget, not after Ruby reminded him who he was deep inside. Fuck him for wanting to run around with her. Thought she might be helpful, keep him from getting too big-headed on the power trip that came from running Goodneighbor.

Yeah... she'd knocked his damn legs out from under him and showed him he wasn't just lording it over the place, but doing a really shitty job of it, too. Fuck her for making his heart start beating again with her do-gooder nonsense. Fuck her for―

For being better than that shit-heel he'd been, and couldn't force himself from until he'd made himself into a goddamned monster. For for taking the goddamn high road and letting him trudge through the irradiated motherfucking thistle on the wayside―without even realizing that was what he'd been doing.

Even as Hancock, he was taking the low road. Goodneighbor, what he'd scratched out in the sand, all of it, didn't stand up to anything she'd done. It didn't stand up to the settlements that popped up every time she stopped to take a breather, people following her deciding to hunker down and make a go of it. Damned if she didn't flash them that killer smile and make them think it was worth it, too.

She didn't have to fucking try, she just _did_ shit. And her shit was―a goddamned eagle soaring over his fucking _turkey_ of a town.

He was angry, yeah. She was right. Goodneighbor _was_ a bumfuck town. All he had to do was see what someone else could do, before he saw how stupid he'd been to try. How much he'd _screwed_ up this place.

This was _his_ bumfuck town, though.

True, she was running her campaign with her a better "neighborhood watch"―Garvey and his Minutemen―and her goals were a touch more important than his. But hell, he'd been carving his little "empire" out of the nastiest corner of Boston for years, now. He deserved a little more respect than to be labelled like some unimportant jackass, because he'd kept these people _safe._

Kept the assholes and tyrants from telling them what to do. Kept the drugs from ruining the whole of the place, even if he'd pretty much done all the drugs _himself_ ―watched out for folks. Made things better, in the shit-filled underbelly of Boston. He'd lived his whole life in that kind of danger.

Ruby was born in the wrong bed to survive in the wastes, and she still managed to show him up at this shit. It didn't seem all that fair, to him.

Hancock put his heavy thoughts out of mind. It made him too angry. Lost himself in the chems for a long time, let himself go back to what he'd been. It was too simple _not_ to. Being Hancock was more important, right now, than letting himself try to come to terms with who John was.

Beside, he'd had a good long time to think about the Man. Ruby... she was the Man.

Made him happier someone _else_ could do that shit, instead of him.

* * *

Only took about a week before the sting of his jealousy, his anger at the insult, faded. He realized he'd been an idiot. Ruby'd come to him for advice about something she didn't know, wanted him to be what she'd expected of him. Only he'd risen to the occasion like all the other poor saps she'd roped into her running of the synths, and made himself better for the experience.

She always drew the best out of people. Goddamn _do-gooder._

And those matters of the heart, shit she wasn't prepared to handle, shit he'd thought too long and too hard to not advise her on... it turned out good for her. Made him have second thoughts about who he was, at any rate.

He could be Hancock and be John, too. He took the responsibility on, voluntarily. Ruby _had_ to do it because she was duty-bound to stop that jackaninny son of hers from ruining what already existed. She didn't like the terror that the Institute brought any more that Hancock did.

Maybe he right that she kept him from being big-headed about power. Maybe she challenged everyone around her to get better or die trying, and she was the one who really needed the help. All that he'd seen her do was either her trying to maintain some kind of stability in the Commonwealth because she was working toward the goal of getting her son back―or it was her trying to maintain what she'd put into the place because she couldn't get what she wanted, after she'd come to understand what really happened.

A _lot_ like what he'd done in Goodneighbor, come to think about it. Hancock felt a little disappointed in himself. Should have done some Mentats. Would have figured that out a lot sooner.

Alright, so he'd helped. He'd helped with Slag at the Ironworks, he'd helped her take out other raider groups like the one up at Zimonja, and he'd helped her with that idiot Danse and covered her ass when she broke down on the pier. He'd really _wanted_ to help her, then, seeing her crying and as upset as she was.

That brought up other shit, shit that had been weighing down his shoulders for a while. Since he watched her hit that Jet and realized how much he didn't like her using.

Like how he liked her. Liked her, fuck. He _admired_ the damn woman. Sister was just as broken as he was, but she didn't need a monkey suit to make herself better. That was _respectable._

Also made him think about how he wished those wheels she kept turning, would turn the shutter on her heart so it would shine on him for a little while. _His_ heart wanted. _Hers_ had other plans.

John liked her a lot more than he let on, but she didn't need that shit on top of all the other shit she was going through. Hancock wasn't what she deserved, and she sure as hell didn't need John. He wouldn't wish John on anyone, not even himself, and here he was saddled with that dumb bastard 'til the end of fucking time.

Man, but that high he'd gotten to _earn_ that time―

Hancock kept at the drugs. Didn't want to think about what happened next, not until he was good and ready.

* * *

His mind kept coming back to Ruby. Going over about how she'd called him her friend, about how calm she got after he agreed to help her with that synth asshole. Reminded him why he'd stuck around the Hills for as long as he had.

One of his worst flaws. He cared too goddamn much, for as cool as he was on the outside. Cared about Ruby, about her goals. Wanted to see her do better, because God knew _he_ couldn't. Wanted to see her get what she wanted; whether it was the liberation of the Commonwealth from the terror that was the Institute, the unification of people through the Minutemen goodwill, or hell... even if she wanted to stick it out with the Brotherhood.

Nah... sister wasn't gonna go back to the Brotherhood, no matter what. They hated too much. She only went along with them until she got what she'd needed. Which was good on her, because now she didn't need them anymore and that made Hancock grin for her sticking it to her own _Man_ by running out on their ghoul-hating asses.

She sure as hell wasn't siding with her son, either. Letting go of her boy, him being something she couldn't hold onto anymore... changed her. She'd hit the bottom of her own barrel and the assholes she'd roused from 'round the Commonwealth pulled her ass out of it before she'd counted the nails holding it together.

He'd have killed for that kind of support, when McDonough started tossing ghouls out of Diamond City. Why couldn't she had been around, back then? Back before he got so fed up with himself that he damn near destroyed himself running away from it all?

That was in the past. She was around, _now._ He just had to find a way to let her give her apology for being so rude, even if he didn't mind the insult anymore.

Had to let her say she was sorry. That was who Ruby was and, knowing her, she was gonna make it a _good_ one. He almost looked forward to seeing what she came up with. And he'd almost given up seeing it happen, before something fucking amazing started happening in Goodneighbor.

Hancock was sitting in the Old State House, rubbing his mouth and listening to the horseshit that Kent was up to on that station of his. Didn't take much for him to find out it was her, running about. She must've known he was keeping an eye out for that sort of thing, too, because she showed up in the State House when he let word get out he wanted to talk to her.

She was playing at being that damn Shroud character, when she walked into his room. Hancock guessed she'd gone and did herself up just to make Kent Connolly feel better, not because she really enjoyed it. But he was amused, because she was doing it so... perfect.

The goddamn _voice_ was what got him. She didn't even care if she embarrassed the living shit out of herself. Any customed freak could run amok doing the stupid shit the Shroud did, like she was. Hell, that was _him,_ even! But that _voice_ she pulled, coupled with the action, the coat, the dedication to the show―it was just perfect.

"You are just _priceless,"_ he mumbled at her, taking a drag on his cigarette. Stared her down, taking in the sight.

Ruby's eyes flashed at him. She was extremely annoyed with the matter. If he were still angry he might think she was playing at being Hancock, because she knew how sorry _he_ was. To show him she was just as sorry as him, when it came down to doing stupid shit for kicks and kicking out tyrants.

But she was a damn fine actress, he'd give her that. Pretty impressive for a woman trying to play a male role, especially that ridiculous affect in her voice.

"How should I feel about this?" he asked, trying his damnedest to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"This neighborhood is ill. _I_ am the cure," she pantomimed dramatically.

Hancock nearly swallowed his cigarette with the chuckle he gave. Shook his head at her, instead. "Playing dress up is fun and all, but you've walked into something a whole lot bigger."

The Shroud stared back at him, not willing to give it up. With a nod, Hancock explained to her about the raiders being made into something more scary. About Sinjin, his attempts to rally the bastards into a real thorn in his side.

He'd kept an eye on Sinjin and his group while Ruby was running about taking down the street dealers. Did that for her. He would have done it, anyway, but knowing she wasn't as in-tune with the assholes on these streets made it easier. Goodneighbor watched itself. Sinjin's men were little fish, now. Little fish in a big pond that would grow and grow until there wasn't enough food to feed both sides.

Ruby couldn't watch her _own_ back without half the Commonwealth knowing where she was. Playing at being the Shroud for his sake... it was a damn fine apology. He appreciated that. And he wasn't gonna let her bite the dust until she was done with her little charade.

But Ruby didn't have anyone with her, right now. She'd come back for _him,_ and she'd come _alone._ He wasn't gonna let her leave without him.

She probably knew he knew; she was a hell of a lot better at playing games with words than he was. Guessed it came from her lawyer education, rather than a school of hard knocks like his skills.

"Goodneighbor'd rest a whole lot easier with Sinjin out of the picture," he said, deliberately, watching her reaction.

She finally broke the facade, smiling exasperatedly at him. "I'm up for some community service," she said, and he heard the laughter in her voice barely being contained.

Hancock drew in a half-breath, put an arm around her shoulder and patted her, smiling. "You know, you're all _right,"_ he breathed.

"Good to hear that," she replied, faintly. "I was getting a little tired of all this―" she waved her gloved hand up and down the outfit, and sighed. "I don't know how you _do_ this _,_ John."

He laughed at that, pushing her out of the room.

* * *

She did it all in character, damn her. For half the balls on this skinny blonde woman wearing a black trenchcoat and carrying a silver submachine, talking like the old radio plays, Hancock would have walked to Hell and back. _Barefoot._

 _"Death has come for **you,** evildoer. And __**I** am its **Shroud.** "_

When the raider assholes associated with Sinjin were dead or had run off in fear of the Shroud, Ruby immediately sprinted up to Kent's side. Hancock made his way up the stairs, laughing to himself about the horseshit that had gone down, laying his shotgun on his shoulder.

If they hadn't been staring down that bastard and he didn't know what was at stake should they lose the fight, he might've _died laughing_ at her over-the-top acting. God, that was _great._

"I don't know..." Kent was saying, when he reached the platform. "I just give up. On all of it. Crime-fighting just isn't what I thought it would be."

 _"Really?"_ Ruby asked, giving him a critical glance. "After all this, you're just giving up?"

"I knew it was bad out there," Kent mumbled, shooting a glance at Hancock.

"If you just quit, the bad guys have already won," she protested, frowning at the dejected-looking ghoul.

"You..." he sighed. "You're right. But I'm tired. I just want to go home. Thanks a lot for saving me... I'm going back to Goodneighbor."

Ruby watched Kent for a moment, before she turned her head to look at Hancock. A smile started across her face, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth tugging in reply. "Well... we get to walk that tight rope of freedom one more day," he grinned, trying not to lose his shit right then and there.

"You use me to deal with your problem, and that's all I get?" she countered, her voice wavering between laughter and deadly seriousness. "Some heartfelt pats on the back and a few encouraging words?"

"I know, right?" He felt the pressure, the urge to give into her tone. "Costume crusading is a really _shitty_ gig."

Kent made a sad noise, and Hancock turned his attention onto the fellow. "Why the long face? You got what you wanted," he said, trying not to feel too badly for the ghoul. He should've _known_ better, the old fool.

"I was t-tortured," Kent stammered. "It's not like the radio plays at all."

"The price of throwing down with the Man is always a few scars," Hancock mused. And wasn't _that_ the truth. He glanced at Ruby. "But Goodneighbor is a little bit safer thanks to the two of you," he told Kent.

"And where would the Shroud be without his faithful friend, Rhett Reinhart?" Ruby spouted, dramatically. Hancock turned himself and shoved his hand over his mouth to muffle the laughter that finally came, coughing to cover it.

Kent's face lit up, though. "This means a lot to me," he said, tiredly but hopefully. "I'll make it up to you, Shroud, I swear."

"Come on, Kent, let's get you back home," she said, and their footsteps echoed in the empty room as they started down the stairs.

Ruby shot a look back at Hancock, jerking her head at him to follow. He coughed once, turned on a heel, and started after them.

Kent probably wasn't gonna walk straight for the rest of his life, after this. Hancock knew what it took to keep the people safe in Goodneighbor. He _meant_ what he said about the scars. You wore 'em with pride, or you wore 'em to the _grave._

Throwing down with the Man... taking out the Institute, all that shit, if that left him with a few scars, he'd take it _willingly._ _Ruby_ always did. Her crazy show with this Silver Shroud stuff was just her way of showing how willing _she_ was to throw down.

And _he_ sure as hell wasn't gonna let her finish against the Institute without seeing just how hard she could _really_ throw down.


	13. Oh, Brother

Note: I make no assumptions as to how Danse would handle heartbreak. Go go gadget outer shell?

* * *

"Danse?"

He pulled himself out of his thoughts, staring at the rolling water around the Mahkra fish-packing factory. Looked over the beach toward Ruiz, who was reloading her rifle with a well-practiced motion and looking out of the side of her eyes at him.

She'd brought him northeast, away from the denser areas. The crowded feel at Sanctuary Hills had been getting on her nerves, she said. He'd wondered if she was merely using it as a pretense to get him alone and away from the people he wouldn't share his thoughts with.

The previous night had been spent in the settlements clinging to the seaside cliff nearby. It was only an aside that they stopped at the factory, after a quick recon of the area showed a few dead raiders littering the outside. It was just as well they stopped into the place; it appeared to have been overrun and based on the equipment of the raiders, it could well prove a threat to the settlers on the coast.

"Danse?" she repeated, her voice becoming concerned.

"I'm sorry," he said, blinking. "Did you need something, Ruiz?"

"You look like you have something on your mind," she said, looking down the sights of her rifle at the water. She turned her head but kept the rifle up to her eye, raising an eyebrow at him.

Danse breathed slowly, moving his head to watch the ocean again. What had he been thinking about? Hadn't been able to concentrate for a long time. Trying to order his thoughts into coherence was difficult. Ever since...

He was a _synth._ The enemy. Everything about his existence was wrong. Him being _alive_ was wrong. Never mind what he'd done in the past―never mind what he'd accomplished. It didn't matter. Not anymore.

The only thing that _did_ matter to him... was Ruiz. The only reason he was _alive._ She said she needed him to keep her stable. She cared about him, even if he was an abomination, and he was―

Her friend. Whom she wanted to speak to, just as he'd wanted her to speak to her, about his problems. She was giving him the opportunity, right now. That was why she'd brought him all the way out to the coast.

Danse sighed, inwardly. Ruiz always seemed to know, when he needed to speak. Always made time for them to have a quiet moment, like when he'd brought up the topic of Cutler, or when he'd sought her opinion about Haylen.

He should have remembered that she was far more proficient at empathy, than he was. Even through her own trials, she'd always picked up on other people's feelings.

Until now, she'd given him the time he'd requested to think. And until now, he _hadn't_ been ready to speak about it. He'd let his mind go over and over it―the why, the how. The... _when,_ was especially disturbing in his mind. He hadn't made very much headway, thinking about it.

Ruiz made a curious noise as he turned back to her, gripping his rifle a little tighter. It _was_ time to bring the matter to light, if Ruiz thought so.

"Something you need to say?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, carefully. "As a matter of fact, I do have something to say."

"What is it?" she asked. Ruiz lowered her rifle and stared at him, a thoughtful look on her face.

He hesitated, his mouth parting with unspoken words. He should borrow some of her brashness, to barrel through this problem. But it was not who he was. He supposed he could... speak the truth, but the truth was that he was _angry._

Perhaps it would be better to let his anger show; he'd felt very angry over the last week. Angry at himself, angry at the Institute, angry at―at Maxson, for treating him so ill―

He'd even been angered at _Ruiz,_ who had done nothing to earn his ire. She'd saved his damned _life,_ and he felt angry for that. Saved the life of a synth, which she should rightly have ended. She thought she'd made the right choice. He respected that.

Even if she had saved him for a selfish purpose, he respected her decision. Respected her for fighting for him, though he was now certain he hadn't earned it.

"Are you... _okay,_ Danse?" she asked, looking worried.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I really thought this would be easier to talk about."

She nodded. "Take your time, okay?"

"...I don't know where to start," he said, pressing his lips together. He didn't, really. Didn't want to let loose anger onto her that she didn't deserve.

"Whatever it is, I'll help you through it." She smiled at him gently, leaning her rifle on one shoulder and her hand on her hip.

"I don't know if anything will help me work through it." Danse shook his head and closed his eyes briefly.

Ruiz nodded. "I know the feeling," she muttered, sorely. "Come on, Danse. Out with it."

He wondered if she still felt as she had. The sadness. The uselessness of fighting for what she just couldn't have, the loneliness of losing her family. Wondered if that feeling ever went away, or if it stayed in one's person as a stain on their psyche.

The lie that was his memories... she, at least, had faith in _her_ memories. He still couldn't trust that his own were real, or that he―as a synth, even―had been the entity that _made_ those memories. Ruiz _could_ understand his trouble. But he doubted she would truly _comprehend_ it.

"In all honesty, you're the closest thing I have to a friend that I'm ever going to have out here." He sighed. "I... trust you. Given the nature of my true identity, that trust isn't something I can hand out lightly."

She nodded, turning her gaze away from him and staring at the ocean. "I know." He watched her green eyes catching the sun.

He couldn't lie to her. To keep the anger from showing―no matter what, she'd saved him. To tell her what he felt without the real emotions behind it would be a lie. And that was not something he wanted to stand for.

She'd earned his truth. If she could not stand to hear it, or stand by him through it, then she had every right to leave him by the wayside. It was the only outcome he could expect of this―idiotic pursuit of cake, which he wanted to have _and_ to eat.

He wasn't sure he'd used the idiom correctly, but it stood as an example of who he was. A terribly appropriate way to express his _difficult_ nature.

 _So be it._

"I've spent my entire life... or at least what I perceive as my life... following a plan to shape my own future," he started, his voice louder and more agitated than before. "But since my banishment, I feel lost... almost like I exist without purpose." He stared at her, watching her eyes widen in surprise.

"For the first time since that moment I signed up with the Brotherhood, I don't have all the answers. I don't have a plan." He breathed out through his nose, trying not to let his temper take control. "And it scares the hell out of me."

"...You have every right to be confused," she said, delicately. She shouldered her rifle, dropping her hand from her hip.

"You're damn right, I'm confused," he replied, bitterly. His voice lowered, hardening. "I'm a machine that thinks like a human who was trained to hunt the very thing I've become."

 _"Danse,"_ she said, chiding him. "You can't let that..."

"You don't understand," Danse interrupted. "Everything I had, everything I knew is gone."

Ruiz sighed, painfully. "I..." she breathed, then stopped herself.

She was thinking about her time in Vault 111. He could see the emotion rolling across her face, while she remained silent. The long sleep that had been punctuated by the death of her husband, by the theft of her son. The awakening into a world that was nothing like what it should have been.

But those people, before the War... they knew what was happening, _as_ it happened. Even Ruiz had known the world would someday come to an end for her family. She knew to go to the Vault, to protect them from the fallout. Her memories were real, and his were _not._

"In the span of a few hours, my identity was ripped from me and my world turned upside-down," he continued. "At least what you had was something tangible... something _real."_

"Danse," she started, ruefully. _"I―"_

"Your husband, your son... they were living, breathing humans who loved you and cared for you," he interrupted, angrily. "I have no way to tell how much of my own past is artificial and how much is real. Can you even imagine that?"

"No." Ruiz stared at him with wet eyes, her voice cracking. "I can't."

"I started out as nothing, and I've ended up as nothing... and I don't know what the hell to do about it," he went on, the stress of the situation seeping into his voice.

"I'm truly _sorry,_ Danse." Ruiz sighed and wiped her face. "I don't know what to say." She sniffed and smiled, dully. "...I really _don't."_

She stared blankly at his power armor for a moment, as he struggled to regain his composure. It wasn't as if he'd expected a cure-all from her. But now she was as lost as he was, about the matter―

Which _was_ strange. Ruiz always knew what to say. The idea that she was put out by this matter brought other thoughts to his mind. Thoughts pertaining to the times when she hadn't been able to speak, before. When she was... far more emotional, as _he_ was now.

He did _not_ want to think about those feelings, right now. Hadn't dared to go any further in thinking about that, since they'd returned from the bunker and she'd spoken with Elder Maxson. The idea that she might harbor such feelings, for _him,_ was unacceptable.

He was not a real person. He wasn't even the real Danse, no matter how much he might act like the man. Ruiz shouldn't attach herself to something false. She needed the real thing.

And... even though _he_ was an artificial person, maybe he needed to work toward a more tangible goal. Maybe he would do better if... he accepted and moved on, as Ruiz had to when she found her son.

"Maybe I'm just missing the point," he said, trying to focus his thoughts. "My life's starting over, and I need to come to terms with everything I've lost and everything I've gained."

"Starting over?" Ruiz asked, her tone instantly suspicious. She flicked her eyes onto his, uneasily staring at him. "What does that mean?"

He paused, swallowed the lump in his throat. She was still worried he would leave. That didn't make it any easier for him to ignore―

"I hadn't intended to imply I was leaving," he said, cautiously. "I am only trying to... make sense of what has happened."

She didn't drop the uneasy expression, but nodded at him. "I don't blame you for being angry, Danse. You've lost so much." Her hands clenched into fists. "Everything that made you... you, is up for question. But―if you leave―if you walk away from _everything_ you've done in the Commonwealth―" She closed her mouth hard, breathing out through her nose.

"You're right," he said, watching her. "I'm not giving up, not yet. I can't just walk away from everything and hope for the best."

Ruiz sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Honestly, that's what I did at the Institute," she said, her voice cracking a little. "You saw how _that_ turned out."

"I understand," he agreed. Now that he had experienced something similar, the depths of her depression were not so difficult to grasp.

"I'm sorry, Danse. I know I shouldn't be so pushy. You have every right to... to do what _you_ want to do. Even if it includes leaving." She blinked away the tears he had seen, gathering herself. "I hope it doesn't, though."

Danse nodded. "I don't intend to leave, Ruiz. I did say I wouldn't let you wander alone, without a brother in arms."

"I know," she said. She gave a funny smile, then, and glanced up at him sharply. She looked... relieved, even. He was unsure how to respond.

"...You know, you _are_ like a brother to me, Danse," she said, lightly.

He must have been mad to think she might ever feel the same as she had about her husband, for a synth. Anything he felt would automatically be suspicious. "I wouldn't consider myself anything more," he said, surprised at himself.

"I never had any brothers," she said, her smile turning more friendly. "Or sisters."

"Those sons of bitches who created me couldn't even be bothered to implant memories of having siblings or parents," he said, more angrily than he intended. Why was he angry? He mulled the thought over, for a moment.

He was _disappointed._ He'd... hoped that he could be more, for her. Anything that he'd thought before, now flew out of his head and was replaced with a feeling of loss of that hope.

He'd been feeling that for the last week. It wasn't more stressful for him to add that to the impalpable pile of emotions he'd dealt with, recently.

But... Ruiz _always_ knew what to say. And what she said next, made the feeling far less troublesome than it would have been.

"I _gladly_ accept you as a real brother, regardless of what's happened, Danse." Ruiz put her hands on her hips again, throwing out her chin. _"Proudly._ As far as I'm concerned, you _are_ my brother. And you've been the _best_ of friends."

He was speechless for a moment. "I'll do everything I can to live up to it," he managed, feeling a swell of pride in his chest. That... explained _everything._ She had spoken for him, convinced Elder Maxson to leave him alive, she'd even cried real tears... she wanted him around, because she considered him _family._

Family that she had lost, but now gained. As he had, in being banished from the Brotherhood. And he had gained new family, without even realizing it.

"I can't deny that I'm feeling closer to you than anyone else I've ever met," he said. "I _had_ thought that was an error in programming."

"That's those damn human emotions showing," she laughed. "Pain in the ass, aren't they?" One corner of her mouth hooked up into a wry grin.

She was smiling. Pleasantly. _Knowingly._ Something he was glad to see, even if... the smile was not really for _him._ In fact, he had a fairly decent idea of who she was thinking about, especially related to those "damn human emotions" she'd referred to.

Danse had watched her for the past week, while she was in the Hills, when he wasn't trying to figure himself out. At first he hadn't seen the almost imperceptible change in her behavior. But he was a soldier, and he was trained to notice such small differences―

She'd returned with the former Gunner, favoring her arm after it had broken in a fall. She'd been smiling more frequently, a smile with an undertone of fear to it.

And MacCready―well, his attitude had been remarkably adjusted, compared to hers. No more jabs at Ruiz or the others, no more cocksure walking through the street. He'd closed himself off from the world, or so it appeared.

The former Gunner had been _humbled._ It was an astounding development, given the man's previously insufferable attitude.

As far as Danse could tell, something _had_ happened between the two of them. What it was he couldn't say, but he knew Ruiz well enough and he'd seen the same smile on her face once before.

It was the same smile she'd shown him when she'd told him how she met Nate.

If she'd fallen in love with MacCready... if that was the way the situation was fated to end, then he could do nothing to stop it. He didn't particularly want to give her his approval either, but―

What _should_ a good brother do, in this situation, beyond looking out for his sister?

Danse cleared his throat and fixed her with an amicable look. "I want to thank you for sticking by me, Ruiz. And I'd like to remind you that what I said before, still stands."

She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. "If you need me, I'll be here for you," he clarified.

"I told you, you _wouldn't_ leave," she jibed, chuckling.

"I really can't, you know," he replied, much more seriously. "I would be remiss in my duties to leave you to the mercy of that _foolish_ man."

Ruiz froze, her mouth opening into an "O" and her fingers tightening over the blue and yellow fabric at her hips. After a brief moment of stillness, she colored violently. _"Dammit,"_ she said, looking away from him in embarrassment.

"I am not inclined to let him live down my standards," Danse added, watching her struggle to form words. "Especially if I am to be considered _family."_

Ruiz burst into laughter, covering her face. "Oh, _my God, Danse―"_

He wasn't sure how to react. Ruiz moved closer to him, put her hands up, and placed them both onto the front of his power armor. "Thank you, Danse," she said, her face still as red as a Mutfruit. "I... well, really, just... _Thanks._ And, hell..." she dropped her hands to her sides, looking guilty. "If _you've_ figured it out, I guess that means everyone else has, too."

"Being perceptive is a hallmark of a good soldier," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "I couldn't say whether or not the others have noticed your... affinity."

"Um," she said, turning her head and staring at the ocean, her face still stricken with the embarrassment. "Look, I haven't exactly told him―"

"My lips are sealed." Danse raised an eyebrow at her, though. "But, why _haven't_ you?"

"I-I―" she stammered, one hand nervously picking at the leather belt she was wearing. "I'm not very _good_ at that part," she said.

"Ruiz, you are one of the strongest people I know," he said, chastising her. "You convinced Elder Maxson to spare the life of a _synth._ But you can't talk to an ignoramus such as _Mac―"_

"When you want to open your heart for another person to set up shop," she snapped, but her voice softened as she continued, "sometimes... the door gets stuck _shut."_

The metaphor wasn't something he would necessarily understand. He had an idea as to why she had trouble, though. He had... thought the same, of himself, for a time. "You are concerned that existing feelings for your husband will be a problem?" he hazarded, raising an eyebrow.

Ruiz made a funny noise and lifted a hand, palm up, jabbing at the air. He nodded. "It would be ridiculous to expect of you not to feel something, Ruiz. Even MacCready should understand that. He must still feel something for the wife _he_ lost, as well."

She blinked, then looked up at him with a surprised look. "I didn't think you knew about that," she said, almost whispering.

"If he hadn't told me, I would _not_ have let him defuse you that afternoon at the Vault," Danse replied, as seriously as he could. Ruiz looked appropriately chastised, and he dropped the tone to a lighter one as he continued, "But if he _doesn't_ understand, you can refer him to me."

"What?" she asked, baffled.

Danse smiled, widely. "If he refuses to listen..." He held up his rifle and cocked an eyebrow at her. "I _will_ shoot him."

She sputtered out a laugh, then, and turned away. "Alright, alright," she chuckled. "C'mon, Danse. This place isn't gonna investigate itself."

He followed, dutifully. Part of him wished the young man would prove himself untrustworthy―as he so often had, in his past―but part of him wanted to see Ruiz obtain a satisfactory relationship with the man. She clearly _wanted_ to love him, after all.

 _Damn human emotions._


	14. A Lot More Crying

Note: Late on the chapter, had to do some research, sorry. Really wanted to see a different setting, but I'll figure that one out next time. (Resolution coming)

 _minor edit sorry_

* * *

MacCready was sitting in the bar in the Hills, one leg twitching restlessly and fingers tightly wound around the neck of a liquor bottle. He'd been nursing the bottle of―something, didn't know. He wasn't paying attention when he bought it and he couldn't taste it, anymore. Had been drinking it slowly over the past hour, not trying to put himself out but trying to keep himself at a specific state of drunkenness.

Specifically the state where he didn't have any thoughts in his head, at all. Being drunk was easier than thinking. He didn't _want_ to think.

Thinking just made him miserable. He'd already broken his promise to Duncan, being a better person―didn't need that guilt on top of everything else―didn't want to think about―

 _She_ wasn't talking to him. _Again._ Shut him down, after the Gullet. Just like after _Natick._ He didn't―goddammit, it shouldn't have ended like _that_ ―didn't know what he'd done to make her mad. Wasn't _fair._ He'd tried. He'd―he'd killed the ghouls, he'd saved the day―

And then he'd cried like a goddamn baby and she'd found him out. Knew exactly why he was hurting, too. MacCready closed his eyes and groaned to himself. If there was ever a worse place he'd picked to lose his shit―

MacCready took a long drink of whatever it was he'd bought and set the bottle on the table. Was hard to stop himself from going over and over the situation and wondering what happened. Why. Why did he bother trying to make heads or tails of anything, it never worked out. Nothing _ever_ went his way.

Part of him knew that she wasn't talking to him because she had a lot to do in the Hills. Every time they'd come back, there was a new settler to put to work, or a shipment of building supplies, or someone who needed her to dash off into the wastes and go deal with a problem. She was―well, she'd taken Piper out with her this last time. He was relieved that she wasn't dragging that arrogant bucket of bolts out with her, but...

She ought to be taking _him._ Piper wouldn't watch out for her like he did. She was a damn tourist, outside of Diamond City. Couldn't shoot half as well as he could, and she didn't get bored sitting around the Hills. She ran around asking people their life stories, talking about the Commonwealth, working in the tato patch and―

Making friends. Something he'd not cared to do, at all. Didn't figure he would be around very long, before he'd told Ruby about Duncan's cure, and now he wondered why he even _wanted_ to stay. He could be somewhere else―even down in D.C.―if he wanted.

Ruby'd asked him why he'd stayed, back in the Vault. He stared at the tabletop without seeing, remembering what he'd said. He stayed because―

Dammit, that was exactly what he didn't want to think about! MacCready eyeballed the bottle in his hand. Nearly empty, whatever it was. He felt in his pockets for caps. _Also_ nearly empty.

He sighed, pulled his hat down over his eyes and held onto the brim, covering his upper face so that no one would see. Ruby hadn't said a word to anyone about his embarrassing fit down in the Gullet. She was good like that, keeping her word.

But if he kept thinking like he was, there was gonna be a repeat performance. Damn him for being so goddamn sensitive―he probably should go find a bed and try to sleep off whatever it was he was drinking, and hope tomorrow was better.

But his just day kept getting _worse._

 _Always does._

Behind him he could hear the slow mechanical noise of Danse's power armor, moving into the bar. The clanking got louder and louder, as he realized Danse was moving toward him. His head was killing him, imagining what that―synth _freak_ ―wanted.

Christ, could―could he just be done with it, please? Done with everything. The hurt. The lost chance. Ruby's weird silences and the feeling that he'd never be good enough to―he was done with everything and everyone in the Hills. God, why the hell _hadn't_ he left?!

...Leaving the Hills meant leaving _Ruby._ Meant leaving her to the danger of the Institute, to―to the Brotherhood, to―

If something happened to her, he'd never survive it. He knew that. He was a moron for letting her get under his skin like she had, but he'd wanted it. Wanted to... to love again.

Well, he'd got _that._ Couldn't help himself. Even _if_ it was one-sided and he was feeling every damn moment of _that_ like a red hot bullet fired right up his―

"MacCready," Danse said, a heavy hand landing on his shoulder and pressing down hard. MacCready swallowed the lump in his throat, tilting his head down and sliding down in the chair. _Go away, asshole,_ he thought. _Just... leave me alone._

He didn't reply, just stared sullenly at the inside of his hat brim and fought a wave of nausea rising from his stomach. After a moment, Danse removed his hand from his shoulder and moved around the table, hissing and banging in that ridiculous suit of his.

"I need to talk to you," Danse said. He was reminded of the last time that happened. _History always repeats itself, doesn't it? Goddammit._

"Go away," MacCready said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you did, _you_ deal with it. Worked fine last time." He looked up slightly, enough to catch the bottom half of the freak's face. Danse was frowning at him, and MacCready scoffed.

Danse considered him for a moment, then picked up the bottle that he'd laid on the table. "I understand if you feel the need to... relieve stress," he said, slowly. "But I doubt it is necessary to drink yourself into stupidity, to do so."

"Yeah, I know. M'already stupid," MacCready mumbled, angrily.

Danse put the bottle back onto the table. "No need to be so combative," he said. "I was sent to _retrieve_ you. Ruiz requires your help."

 _Goddammit._ Every― _every_ damn time! MacCready tipped his hat up and stared at the―thing―standing in front of him. Why the hell did she―why did she even want this freak around? He was a goddamned synth―

The things they'd been fighting since he signed up with her, the things that she'd been so hurt by, before. That boy, the one she thought was her son―she oughta have put a bullet in Danse's fake face faster than he could _blink._

But he guessed Danse won the day, when he'd talked to her on that bridge. Or... _whatever._ Every time _he'd_ tried, he'd only failed worse than the last. Danse―might not know how to talk but damn the bastard for his persistence!

"...In your present condition, you cannot be of help," Danse stated. "I will tell Ruiz that you are unavailable." He turned and began walking away.

"No," MacCready said, pushing himself out of the chair with a wobble. "No, I'm coming."

"Unless you have some sort of instantaneous remedy for your current state of inebriation," Danse said, pausing and staring at him, "I seriously doubt that Ruiz will take you with her."

MacCready put a hand out and grabbed the edge of the table, and jabbed a finger at the synth. "Don't care what you think," he said, his words slurring in his mouth. He grimaced at himself.

Danse narrowed his eyes. He put a hand out and pushed down the finger that was jabbing his armor. "You've told her, haven't you?" he said, abruptly. "I would hazard that her reaction was not what you _anticipated."_

MacCready's face flushed with blood, anger that he'd kept repressed for too long finally making it's way up to the surface. _"You―"_ he started, slapping away Danse's hand. Danse tilted his head, staring at him with a critical look on his face. "You don't _get_ to―" MacCready snapped, unable to form the words he wanted to say. He was all messed up from drinking―he knew better than to start a fight with someone he'd never get one hit against, even―

Danse reached out a hand and steadied his shoulder, his face softening. "I understand, you know," he said, quietly. "I felt the same, once. But I wasn't the right fit."

MacCready's head felt like it was about to explode from the anger. This asshole―giving him a damn pep talk like he'd given Ruby―he couldn't even made heads or tails of what Danse was saying, dammit! Wasn't right― _what?_

"I will convince Ruiz that her trip can be delayed until the morning," Danse was saying, removing his hand from MacCready's shoulder. "You need to sleep this off."

He had the perfect comeback for that, but it was too late for him to say it. MacCready pitched forward, swinging out an arm to connect with Danse's chest, but ended up knocking his forehead into the armor. Everything went a little fuzzy―

He passed out, sprawling onto the bar floor.

* * *

"He did _what,_ now?" Ruiz snapped, when Danse returned to tell her that the former Gunner was presently of no use.

Danse repeated his statement to her that the man drank entirely too much and had fallen unconscious. "I did tell him that I would ask you to stay in the Hills until the morning," he added, gesturing to the provisioner that she was intending to escort across the wastes.

Ruiz pinched her nose and put her elbow in her other hand, sighing. After a moment, she dropped her hand and looked at the provisioner. "I'll meet you there," she said, waving the woman away.

"Why should I wait," she grumbled, looking back to Danse with a frown. "He knows _better_ than this―"

"You've left him without much choice but to be upset," Danse chided her, staring down at her. "If you'd actually talked to the man like you should..."

Ruiz's head sunk into her shoulders a little. "It's not that _easy._ You know that," she said, her voice strained.

"You continue to delay the inevitable and that only makes the matter worse," he replied, frowning at her.

She put a hand on her face and slowly pulled it down, turning herself to look back at the Hills. "Okay," she muttered. "Where'd you put him, anyway?"

"The house with the trimmed hedges," Danse replied. "Closest to the bar."

She flinched. Danse raised an eyebrow at her, pressing his mouth together. He was well aware that the house in question was her own, from before the War. Piper had mentioned that Ruiz hadn't gone into the place, since her first exit from the Vault. The Handy had confirmed that as well.

She had not gone into the house, and it was time that she did so. Maybe she wanted to keep the memories as clean as she could, or maybe it was too painful. His own past was now one enormous guessing game, an unknown. Hers was set in rusted metal and broken windows, in the house that sat across the way from the workshop table. The last step in moving on from her past would be confronting those memories, and getting over them.

She needed to face those memories as much as MacCready needed her to say to him that she was willing. Danse knew she was perfectly capable of handling this matter, if she put herself to the task. He also knew why she was hesitating, and he found it alarming that she would not rise to the challenge as she had so many times before.

Ruiz had fought every battle with words before bullets, up to this point. Telling the Gunner how she felt shouldn't be as hard as she was making it out to be.

"You know you need to fight this battle," he said, simply. Stared her down, watched the emotions running rampant over her face.

"You're really taking this brother thing to _heart,_ aren't you," she muttered, shooting him a dirty look.

"Do you expect any less?" he replied, giving her a knowing look.

"No," she said, sighing. She set her feet and started walking down the road into the Hills, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Danse nodded, watching her walk away, before moving off to resume his patrol of the waterfront.

* * *

Ruby stepped onto the walk, staring up at the old house. Her eyes started to drag to the left, toward the tricycle that she knew would be sitting in the yard, but she forced herself to take a few more steps toward the door and away from the sight.

Damn Danse for―she was beyond irritated, now. He was right, she knew that, but _damn him_ ―Ruby walked forward and through the doorway, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She could hear―

The television, the newscaster droning on about world affairs; the gentle humming of the refrigerator and the door slamming shut awkwardly when closed, because the seal had come loose the week before; the soft whooshing of the washing machine running a cycle. Nate was talking to her about buying the Handy, and then the doorbell rang.

Codsworth's voice, from the very back of the house, calling out to her; a high-pitched cry, tearing at her heart.

Ruby stifled a sob, feeling her knees going weak. She forced herself to open her eyes, and see the disaster that had become her home.

It... wasn't very different. The couches and television, the kitchen set, everything was where it had been. The only difference was the grime of nuclear war that had blasted through the house―

And a cacophonic snoring that was coming from the couch to her right, where MacCready was passed out. She turned herself and put her hands on the back of the couch, staring down at him.

He had his mouth open, snoring loudly through it, one hand on his stomach and the other flung up against the back; one leg was on the floor and his hat was askew on his head. She took a deep breath and moved away from the couch, moving into the hallway.

Ruby trailed her hand along the wall, glancing in at the laundry room, before stopping short at the door to Shaun's room. She felt the tears coming down her face, then. Couldn't stop them. Couldn't stop imagining what―what should have happened―

Couldn't help but hear Shaun talking about the revenge he'd set up for her to take, on Kellogg. Revenge for a father's death, a father that he'd never had a chance to feel anything for―and she'd blindly walked into that machination he'd made, killing the man. A man who had lived an incredibly long and painful life, who'd suffered the same loss, a...

Kellogg was a killer, no doubt. Even Shaun had said as much. But his life had taken a dramatic turn because of the Institute, and so had hers. She couldn't help but feel sympathy for what he'd become, and... she felt somewhat grateful that she'd been the one to put him down. Not for Shaun―but for herself, for the life she might have resumed being so rudely torn from her.

She wiped her face roughly and stepped across the hallway to their bedroom, sliding to the side and putting her back up against the wall. Stared at the ruined bed frame― _remembered._

Nate laughing as he put the frame together, her handing him a hammer, complaining about her back hurting, him poking fun at her for having the gall to go and get herself pregnant. Her playfully swatting him with a rolled-up newspaper, then feeling the funny twist in her stomach and realizing―

She slid down the wall and sobbed into her hands, uncontrollably. Her head felt like it was in a vice, pressure all over, ears stinging and nose running with the tears she'd thought she was done crying.

Wasn't sure just how long she cried. She managed to stay upright but she could feel the cold metal of her wedding ring digging into her eyebrow as she held her face, sobbing. After a long time she dropped her hands to her lap, staring at them as they shook, and felt her fingers numbly as she pried the ring from her finger.

Ruby held up the ring, looking through it at the bedroom. The setting sun had nearly finished, darkness falling over the Hills. She―

All she could see was the broken bed and the gently swaying grasses outside of the busted walls. She tilted her head back, closing her hand over the ring. Held her fist at her mouth, breathing weakly, and felt exhausted.

But she had to do this. She didn't have an option. Ruby pushed herself up and moved quickly across the hallway, throwing herself into Shaun's room with a decisive motion. Everything was knocked around, but it was all still _there_ ―

Even... his crib. _Oh, God―_

She winced and and closed her eyes, more tears coming, turning her head away. She could feel tiny fingers grabbing hers, so strong for someone so little. Could see his eyes on hers, dark brown, rapt at the sound of her voice. Remembered the warmth of his sleepy head against her chest as she held him in the chair, reading―

Her foot bumped into the book on the floor. Ruby opened her eyes a slit and stared down at the "You're Special!" board book, and lowered herself onto her heels. She reached out and picked it up, touching the tattered cover softly.

She shudder with another sob. Stared at the book as she flipped it open, mouthing the words to herself.

 _"L is for Luck, and it's simple, you see! It means that good things always happen to me!"_

She closed the book, staring at the cover for a long time, then righted herself and placed it down on the nearby table. Looked at her wedding ring in her hand for an even longer time, sucking up snot into her head, and put it on top of the book. Felt in her pocket and removed Nate's ring, placing it beside the other.

She adjusted the rings so that they were neatly lined up on the cover of the book and turned back to the hallway. Wiped her face as she walked back through the house, stopping at the couch to stare at MacCready again.

He'd shifted position, turned himself to face the back of the couch, one arm under his head and the other up near his chin. He'd curled up in a fetal position and his hat was trapped under his arm. She tilted her head at him, then plucked the hat out from its entrapment, moving around the couch.

Ruby sank into a chair across from him and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. When he woke up... she fingered the brim of his hat. They would talk. Proper-like, even. She'd... she'd tell him how she felt. Apologize for ignoring him so much.

...She had a feeling she was going to do a _lot_ more crying, though.

Ruby sighed.


	15. The Show

Note: Location brought to you by starrysky (Thanks, because that led to a good idea!) Inevitable outcome laughed at by husband, also. (Passed the test!)

I might have to call this fic complete unless I have any more ideas. Suggestions are always welcome.

* * *

 _"Hey,_ Ruby."

She snapped awake, sitting upright with a jerking motion, blinking in confusion and panic. Remembered that she was in the Hills and calmed down, then looked down at her hands. ...She was holding MacCready's hat, sitting in the chair across from the couch in her old house, and she'd fallen asleep at some point. MacCready was still sleeping on the couch, arms and legs tangled across the stained canvas.

Ruby blinked again, and rubbed her eyes. Who was talking to her? She turned her head and felt the slowness of her brain as she struggled to wake up.

Hancock was leaning into the side of the house through one of the holes, elbows out and hands hanging loosely over the edge of the broken wall. "Hey, you awake?" he asked, quietly.

"You could call it that," she mumbled, after staring blankly at him for a moment. She rubbed her eyes again.

"Looks like you went a couple rounds," he whispered, gesturing to MacCready. "Anything happen?"

She glanced to the side, at the former Gunner, then shook her head. "No."

Hancock nodded, then shot her a curious look. "Listen, if you got a moment..."

"Yeah, I'm coming," she muttered, pushing herself out of the chair and stretching. She moved around the couches toward the door, placing MacCready's hat on the broken hat rack. She stepped out of the house and stretched again, as Hancock came up to her side.

"What's going on, John?" she asked, yawning.

He made a grumbling noise, then scratched the skin under his chin. "Just wanted to powwow with you about some things," he said, vaguely. "Go for a walk?"

Ruby shot a look back at the house, squinting her eyes against the rising sun. "I guess we could," she answered, unsure.

Hancock made a waving motion with two fingers and started off toward the east side of the Hills, toward a small pier. The same place she'd had the conversation with him about Danse being a synth, where she'd done her first―and last―hit of jet. Ruby yawned again as she trudged through the bushes after him, only stopping when he did. As his boots hit the boards of the pier, he slowed and turned his head to look up at the sky.

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asked, quietly.

Hancock stared out over the surrounding area for a while, then turned his head to look at her. She remembered, when she'd first met him, how he'd stabbed a man right in front of her. No doubt Hancock was dangerous, but when she'd finally gotten inside Goodneighbor she was willing to put up with all manner of crazy. Boston had gone insane―and finding somewhere to sit down and not be harassed was a miracle, at that point.

Hancock looked back at her, his face blank. "You're a good person, sister," he said, briefly. "Making life better for everyone."

"That was the plan," she said, cautiously. Wondered why he was thinking about ideals and morality.

"You and me, out in the Commonwealth, bringing hell to folks that deserve it..." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, staring at her. "That's the path we walk, right?"

Ruby opened and closed her mouth, and frowned at him. "Yes?" she said, making a face. "I... is something wrong, John?"

"Sorta," he said, shrugging a shoulder and taking a drag on his cigarette. "I'm not happy with some of the things going on."

Ruby stared at him for a time. Didn't know―she'd just done all that―Silver Shroud _crap,_ and he'd seemed happy enough afterward. Had acted like it, anyway. "What do you mean," she asked, confused.

"That," he said, gesturing at the Hills. "You and me, we're golden. Ain't got much to complain about. Well, there's the Brahmin, but―" he grinned a little, and shook his head. "Expect I don't smell too pretty, either."

She made another face. "If you're referring to MacCready..." she started, but he interrupted.

"Yeah, thought so," he muttered, turning his gaze to the north. He went quiet, then slowly let out a sigh. "Look, MacCready's a good sort."

"I know," she answered, her own voice quiet. "I'm not doing very good by him. I mean to change that."

"Don't say it. _Do_ it." Hancock shot her a hard look. "Got him spinning in a fucking circle, no idea which way is up."

"I know," she repeated, guiltily. Looked down at her feet and felt her face flushing. "But it's... it's not something I... can deal with, easy. _After..."_

"You tell me it's not easy, after I seen you got your foot square on on the neck of that Brotherhood asshole?" Hancock said, not caving. "I know what you do with _words._ You saying you can't say a few to the village idiot?"

She sighed. "I was going to tell him tod―" she began.

"You need to make things right. No more bullshit." Hancock glanced away. "If you can't commit, you let him walk. Brother deserves that much, at least."

Ruby felt a little angry, then. Stared at Hancock for a moment, setting her mouth into a thin line. "I don't know what you mean by this, John," she said, pointedly. "I can't exactly―"

"Christ," he muttered, tossing the cigarette. "Now you're making _excuses?"_

"It's not―" she said, angrily. "MacCready isn't―"

Hancock moved closer to her, grabbing her chin and lifting her eyes up so he could stare at her with unblinking black eyes. Looked right into hers for so long, his rough fingers on her skin, that she wasn't sure exactly what he intended by the gesture. It made her very uncomfortable―

"Don't think you realize how many people you got lined up," he murmured.

Her eyebrows drew together. _"What?"_ she asked, more confused.

Hancock leaned in closer, putting his face into hers, and she could smell the strange smell of ghoul coming from him. It was... she put her hands up to his shoulders, meaning to push him away, but he was quicker.

He moved with a jerk, walking off a few steps, and lowered his head. Pulled out his knife, started playing with it. "Just tell the man, already," he said, sounding disappointed with himself.

Ruby took a deep breath and turned on one heel, walking back to the Hills. Whatever the hell he was on about, she really didn't have the mental ability to handle. Not _this_ early in the morning.

God, but now she had both Danse _and_ John chiding her for this shit―

* * *

It was noon before they'd made their way down to the co-op. Ruby'd had a mean look on her face the whole trip, and he didn't blame her.

Not when he'd screwed up her plans. After he'd woken up inside her old house without much memory as to how he'd gotten there, she'd ordered him to follow her in a really unfriendly way. All he could do was duck his head in shame and walk along behind her, angry with himself.

Shouldn't have been drinking, shouldn't have ended up―she was probably still angry with him after the Gullet―someone probably told her he was in her house. Wouldn't put it past Danse to make sure he ended up there―as if he _needed_ help with screwing himself over _more―_

Ruby hadn't gone back to her old house. He knew why. It was the same reason he'd broken down in the Gullet. Too much to remind her about the past, too much to cry about―and him sleeping on her damn couch was almost as bad as walking on her husband's grave.

He wouldn't kid himself. He'd fucked up and he'd fucked up _bad._ She had every right to be angry at him.

He was downright pissed at himself, for being so goddamn _stupid._ For letting things get so strained.

His being angry at himself and her attitude made for a very stressful day. Ruby's plan was to head out to Sunshine Tidings, build up the existing houses with the settlers, then head south to that stockpile place and clear out the residual raiders. MacCready made himself useful―far away from her―picking tatoes, as she banged away up on a roof on the hill.

Dammit. Just―god _dammit!_ Didn't know what to do, what to say, how to make it better. All he could think about was how―how he'd tried, and he'd _failed,_ and how it felt like she didn't want him around, even if she still told him to come with her. How angry she'd been, how she'd done nothing to make it better.

He'd _tried._ He'd tried and tried, and all he could be was himself, and if she didn't want that around her, then to hell with―

MacCready jammed his eyes shut and breathed out, shakily. He really was done with everything. Couldn't help but get angry about it all.

All he could think about was how she'd responded to Danse. How that asshole made her feel better. She'd gone out and saved Danse's life, and she couldn't bother to say a single word to _him_ about―about anything at all?! She couldn't even bother to come find him, herself, sending the synth freak out to get him for her. What the hell was up with _that!?_

It was easier to be mad. To lose himself to his temper and let the confusion give way to it, instead of feeling useless. To hell with being reasonable. Never worked out for him, _anyway._

The sun set over the co-op, and Ruby made her way down to to the tato patch, watching him weeding the plants. She looked tired, but he didn't care. Was too angry to think straight. Whatever she had to say―

"MacCready," she said. "You ready to go?"

He didn't answer. Whatever she'd been angry about, seemed like it was over with by now. But _he_ was still angry―and he wasn't letting go of that, easy. _Never could._

"MacCready?" she asked, her voice guarded. "Is... something wrong?"

"You tell me," he snapped, unable to contain himself. Sat back on his heels in the dirt and stared at the tato plant in front of him.

Ruby sighed, and crouched down to his level. "I..." she said, resignedly. "I meant to apologize, earlier."

He shot her an angry look, saw her staring at her knees with a tired and sad look on her face. Ruby breathed out another sigh and met his eyes, her face tortured. "Didn't want to have this conversation in public," she said.

He looked back at the tato and snorted. "Anything you want to say to me, you can say right _now,"_ he argued, grabbing out a weed with more force than was necessary.

Ruby was quiet for a long time, then she sat on her ass in the dirt, staring at him. "I haven't been treating you very well," she began. "I'm sorry. For that."

Yeah, that was all good and well. MacCready rolled his eyes. Anyone could _say_ they were sorry. Took a whole different kind of person to show they _meant_ it.

"We've been good friends for a while now," she said, slowly. "And I don't want to risk that. So..." She brushed a bit of hair out of her face.

"You've changed," he said, angrily. "Acting like you're angry at me. _Ignoring_ me." He glanced up at her with a hard look. "It's almost like you wish I wasn't around."

"I know," she repeated, simply.

"I just want things to go back to the way they were," he muttered, staring at the weeds in his hands. Back to when―to before he'd fucked it all up in that Vault, back to before he fell in love. Easier to be just friends―

"Well," she said, her voice emotionless. "We _can't_ go back."

He remembered the pain of losing Lucy. The guilt he'd put on himself for years after, blaming himself for being stupid, the worthlessness. Ruby made that flare up again, just―just _because_ he'd fallen in love with her. And hearing this? This―

This horseshit right here, this was _worse._

"If you didn't want my help or advice, why did you hire me in the _first_ place!" he yelled, unable to keep his temper any longer. Threw down the weeds as he stood and glared at her, furiously.

Ruby closed her eyes. "I do want your help," she said, her voice growing small.

"Do you want me to leave?" he went on. "Because I don't really see a reason why I _shouldn't!"_

"No, I want you to stay," she answered, staring at him, her face tilted.

"Then stop acting like you don't," he snapped. "I―"

 _"MacCready,"_ she said, commandingly, and he shut his mouth quickly. Bit his tongue and waited for her to say something―anything! Anything at this point would be better than her constantly ignoring―

Ruby stood, facing him down. Her hands were clenched under her crossed arms. "We can't go back to the way things were," she said, her voice shaking, "...because I was hoping what we have... could be _more_ than friendship." She looked down at her feet as her face turned pink.

The first thing he thought was that it didn't make it any better, her saying that she―

The second thing he thought was a blank static filling up his head. It took him a whole minute and a half of silence to fully understand what she'd just said, and to form a reply. Couldn't even stop himself from being entirely confused.

"I―" he started, then blinked at her. _"What?"_

Ruby covered her eyes for a second or two. "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you," she said, sounding disappointed in herself. "You... you were... making me upset, and I didn't know how to deal with it." She closed her eyes. "I wasn't ready for... for _that,_ at the time."

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, to himself. Was still angry at himself and at her. But, last time... she'd started talking to him again, after she told him about Shaun. He'd thought that made things less strained between them. She'd picked on him a little even, made jokes. Seemed like it was all back to normal then.

Felt the same as that, _now._ Was it a trap or something? He'd never understand women. Lucy hadn't been like this. He didn't know if he should accept what she was saying, and let her talk―or if he should―

He didn't know. Defend himself, push the anger out there, let her know how he felt? Ruby didn't lie to people, she just kept her mouth shut. Any time she said something, she meant to say it.

So... he knew she meant what she'd said. About wanting more. Still felt weird, but―

"Can you give me a chance?" she asked, carefully. "If you're... mad, I understand. I'm _sorry."_

Danse said he wasn't the right fit. MacCready could barely remember what'd gone on in the bar, but he did remember _that._ Said he'd felt the same―maybe he'd tried something and she shot him down, _too._

But she wasn't shooting him down, right now. He still couldn't wrap his head around that. Didn't―didn't know if he could believe it was real, what was happening. He shot Ruby a glance, saw her waiting for the hit. She expected him to say that he was done with her―to say no.

He sighed, leaned back on his heels, and stared at her. "What about your husband?" he asked, his voice raw. "You still... how can you let that go, after _everything?"_

"I'll always love Nate," she murmured, painfully. "There's... no way to let go of everything." She opened her eyes and stared at him, tears threatening her face. "But he's gone, MacCready. It'll never be the same, ever again. All I can do now... is keep moving forward."

He remembered that, too. How hard it had been after Lucy was gone. How much he'd lost, how bad it hurt. Like he'd told Ruby―it wouldn't kill her. But it hurt like _hell._

"I'd never ask you to forget _Lucy,_ either," she added. "You owe her that much. You owe Duncan, to not forget. It's... okay to remember."

MacCready sighed, rubbing his eyes. He wouldn't forget. She was right. And it wouldn't ever be the same as it had before. But―

"I... I don't really know what to say." He turned himself away from her so she wouldn't see his face. He'd... honestly. Never expected her to make the first move. Never expected she actually felt the same―

Ruby moved across the ground, standing closer to him. She smiled, sadly. "I'm not looking for any special favors," she said, slowly. "Got a lot to make up for. I treated you worse than I meant to." She sighed, closing her eyes.

MacCready stared at her, unsure what to say. "You... remind me of Nate, a lot of times," she added, her voice breaking up. "I was afraid it was because... because I wanted _him._ I didn't want to fall in love, and... not be _real."_

MacCready turned himself to the side, lifting his head to blink away tears. Stared at the co-op barn directly in front of him. Everything she was saying... it hit him really hard. Made him _think._

"When he died... I thought that feeling was gone forever. Then I met you." Ruby breathed out in a rush. "I... well..."

She was right. That feeling _had_ been gone. Never thought he'd find himself in love, again. When she came along―when he realized how much she'd let him put on her, and how much he'd needed something like that―it was easy. Easy to fall back into the feelings, to put what he still felt for Lucy, onto her.

Easy to imagine that he wasn't feeling those feelings for Lucy but for Ruby. Never mind that she'd just lost _everything―never_ mind that he had no right going in and making her confused about his intentions.

He'd never really considered that he might have fallen in love with Ruby because of that.

He was an _idiot._ And now he was worried that he only wanted her because he wanted to feel that same love he'd had with Lucy. That made him feel worse, if it was even _possible._

"Hard to be honest with yourself," he muttered, fighting the misery. He couldn't stop lying, even to himself―

Ruby sighed. "No, it's..." she said. "It's more like... I know why _I_ loved _him._ And... I appreciate everything he did, for―" she shuddered, slightly. "I just have a hard time understanding why he put up with me, why―why _he_ loved me, and now... _you."_

"We're two sides of the same coin," he muttered. He'd never understood why Lucy loved him, either. Never doubted it, but... he'd lied so damn often.

 _"Will_ you give me a chance, MacCready?" she asked again, glancing at him miserably. He could see her crying silently, out of the corner of his eyes. "Give me a chance... to make things better between _us,_ at least?"

He knew _he_ was taking a chance dumping all of his feelings on the table. Didn't think Ruby would take the same chance if it meant she might lose. Words were were forté, something she knew too well. She wouldn't have brought up―all this―

Ruby never lost a battle of words in the entire time he'd been around her. _He_ sure as hell couldn't win against her.

Must be overthinking this. It didn't matter what had happened. Had to appreciate what he got, and...

"Ladies don't just fall into your lap, every day," he said, staring at the barn.

Ruby wiped her face. sniffling and chuckling a little. "I had a feeling you'd understand," she said, her voice lightening.

"Here," he said, reaching into a pocket and fishing out the wooden soldier. "You should have this."

She took the toy, looking at him with a funny face. "I know it's strange," he added, before she could say anything. "It's special. Means a lot to me."

She smiled, softly, and stared at it in her hand for a long while. "Lucy gave it to me," he told her. "After we met. I, uh... I told her I was a soldier, and she made it for me."

She smiled. "I like it," she said, quietly. "Thank you, MacCready."

"Never could bring myself to tell her the truth," he said, ruefully. "That I was just a hired killer."

"Sometimes people have to skirt the truth," she replied, turning the toy over in her hand. "For the sake of good intentions."

He nodded, mostly to himself. "Yeah," he agreed.

"I'm sorry I made you angry," Ruby said, dropping her hand and looking up at him. "Because I wasn't talking to you."

MacCready glanced away. "It's okay," he muttered. Had a real hard time believing it, but... for once in his life, everything was going right.

It was... really _weird._ Ruby leaned forward, even closer to him. "Hey," she said, softly. "Look, I'm..."

He turned, grabbing her up into an awkward hug. Probably squeezed a little too hard, because she chuckled and coughed at the same time. MacCready stared blankly at the ground, for a long time, just holding her.

 _Lucky._ Didn't wanna let go. _Ever._

"Alright, c'mon," she murmured into his ear. "We're making a scene."

"Sell tickets, then," he muttered, squeezing her tighter.

She chuckled again, tangling her fingers in his hair and rubbing her forehead on the side of his neck.

Didn't know what karma he cashed... but he definitely didn't deserve someone as good as her.

But who _cared?_


	16. Reprise

Note: Yeah, okay, I'm not calling it. I had some ideas suggested to me (thank you, LadyAvon!) and of course I couldn't help myself but to try it out. Apologies if this feels like it's jerking around, I haven't been able to get more than a moment to myself lately. Now I know how Ruby feels.

 _(I had the name thing planned for ages, hah! Love you, grandma)_

* * *

"How come you ended up in the Commonwealth, MacCready?" she asked him, parking herself on the edge of a car hood and staring out over Lake Cochituate. The two had moved south, away from the co-op and the Ration Stockpile. The raiders that had been reported at the Stockpile hadn't been an issue, since she'd taken out the power-armored leader several weeks earlier.

She was much better with a gun, now. Thanks to MacCready's teaching her, and thanks to Danse's support. Ruby rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm, then brushed her hair away from her face, noting that darkness was starting to fall to the east.

They were back in Natick Banks. Where everything had started... in a way. The first time he'd tried anything, had been in the police station. She stared out over the lake and felt embarrassed for herself. _Should have at least talked to him, back then..._ she felt guilty about it, still.

Ruby looked over at MacCready, wondering what he was thinking about. The ex-Gunner was reloading his weapon, staring intently at the chambers as he put each bullet in the proper place. She could see his face, the intensity of his expression. After he'd loaded the chambers and put the pistol to rights, he tilted his hat up on his head and looked out over the lake.

"I followed the money," he said, his face expressionless.

She knew why he wanted money. Having caps in abundance was the difference between life or death in this new world. The difference between a good gun and a bad one, between not knowing when you might eat again or having a full belly.

And there would always those people with a drive to succeed―like herself, but she'd only been in her career because―

The reason she'd gone for her degree was to make sure that she and Nate had money―money for a family, for the house. The house... she sighed. The house didn't really _matter._ Family _did._

She lowered her hands to the hood of the car and stared at MacCready. Remembered that he hadn't grown up in Boston, like she had, or anywhere near there. He'd lived... where was it again? ...The Capital Wasteland. Where he'd left _his_ family.

MacCready hadn't talked much about the Capital, not nearly as much as Danse had. She hadn't known anything about D.C., not even before she'd entered the Vault. Never had been very good at keeping up with politics, even the inter-office kind. She wondered what'd happened to the White House―

Probably got wiped right off the map, she mused, studying the broken overpass in the distance.

She looked back at him. "Did you hire on with the Gunners down in D.C.?" she asked, gripping the hood of the car and putting her feet up on the fender.

"Those idiots wouldn't last two days in the Capital Wasteland," he retorted, one corner of his mouth curving up. "I know I didn't, once the Brotherhood started crawling all over the place."

That was something genuinely interesting, to her. But... if she started asking questions, she'd have to refer to Danse's comments. MacCready and Danse barely got along on a good day. Didn't seem like a good idea to agitate that―especially given the attitude that Danse had about the former Gunner, even after he'd been made aware of her feelings.

"Where did you live, in the Capital?" she asked, switching the topic.

"Told you about Little Lamplight, right?" he replied, shooting her a glance.

"Yes," she said, "but there was that Super Mutant who kept interrupting us, out at Breakheart..." She left her voice trail off and smiled sheepishly at him.

He rolled his eyes at her. "You don't even remember, do you?"

"Sorry," she said, her smile fading. "I had a lot on my mind. I still _do._ But I'm trying." Stared at him, forcing the memories away.

"When I was a kid, I had no idea what the wasteland was really like," he said, putting his .44 away. He crossed his arms and looked over the lake. "None of the kids down in the caves knew anything about the real world. When you hit sixteen you had to leave―" he sighed, and looked down at the water.

"Sounds like an enchanted life," she said, thoughtfully. "Kept you safe."

"I'd say your coming out of the Vault was a lot like when I left Little Lamplight," he said, sounding sad. "I knew how to shoot, at least."

Ruby ducked her head down. "I got better," she murmured, watching him shift his weight.

"Not everyone is lucky to have somewhere to go," he said, leaning back on his heels.

"Where _did_ you go, when you left the caves?" she asked, watching him.

"Big Town," he said, faintly. His voice trailed off, and he sighed. "Me and Lucy bugged out of there as soon as we could. It wasn't like they said it would be."

"And then you... had the farm, right?" Ruby remembered him mentioning something about that.

"It was good, for a while," he told her. "Up until..."

"That's when you ended up in the Metro," she said. "And Lucy died?"

"Yeah." MacCready wiped his face quickly, coughing.

She nodded, and looked down at her hands. There was a strained silence, pressing down on them like an enormous hand. Ruby picked at her fingernails for a time, trying to think of something to say.

Didn't want to bring up that subject again. Not after he'd been so angry with her, at the co-op. Sometimes she wondered if she really was all that great at talking to people, like Hancock said. She was stepping on toes with MacCready all over the place, lately.

"You know," she said, slowly. "I think you've told me more about yourself than _I_ have."

"You haven't exactly made it easy to ask," he said, his voice agitated.

She flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she whispered, staring at her broken nails. He was still mad at her. She didn't blame him.

MacCready didn't say anything else, for a long time. Ruby eventually pushed herself upward, brushing paint flakes from her ass. Glowing fungus down by the lake had started putting off more light. Darkness was almost covering the sky, moving quickly. They'd have to start moving again, if they wanted to get somewhere to bed down for the night.

She came up behind him, putting a hand out onto his shoulder. "MacCre―"

"R.J.," he said, suddenly. "Robert Joseph MacCready."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"That's my name," he said, turning his head to look at her. "What's yours?"

For a moment she was lost, confused as to the reason he was asking, but she caved. "Ruby Ruiz."

"Your whole name," he said, sounding frustrated. "You haven't told anyone else that, right?"

"Oh." She moved around to face him and paused. "Well, I'm an R.J., too. _Robert Joseph_ sounds a lot better than _Ruby Jeraldine,_ if you ask me," she said, curling up a corner of her mouth.

He nodded, then breathed in and out, turning his head to stare down the road toward the police station. "So how's... this, going to work?"

She sighed. "We're going to annoy the ever-loving piss out of one another until we die. ...I _hope,"_ she said, putting her hands on her hips.

He smiled, then, and pushed his hat back even further, facing her. "Alright," he replied, and threaded a hand through her arm around her hips. Pulled her a little closer, and stood there for a moment. Her heart flipped around in her chest wildly, for a moment, then sunk in disappointment. That was all? After everything?

"I'm not going to bite you or nothing," she muttered, making the first move to wrap her arms around him. _Almost like he's afraid to touch me, or something._ ...That was her fault, too, dammit.

"You're really hard to read, okay?" he grumbled, and responded in kind.

"MacCready," she said, once they'd stood there long enough to let darkness fall completely over the area. "It's getting dark. We should get going."

He released her and adjusted his hat on his head, as she held up her Pip-Boy and plotted a route away from the lake.

"Don't get too far ahead... I like being close."

Ruby's heart jumped in her chest.

* * *

 _"Christ, will ya knock it off, already!"_

Ruby smiled, despite her poor mood. Cait was always good for that; making one feel better about themselves because she was always so miserable. Ruby didn't think she was really as grumpy as she made herself out to be. Like MacCready, Cait just liked to complain. _...A lot,_ she laughed to herself.

They's stopped at Hangman's Alley to resupply and check on people. Cait was standing just inside the door berating a man who, to Ruby's eyes, hadn't done anything to deserve the lashing. Fairly normal for Cait; entirely normal for Hangman's Alley, where only the toughest settlers could survive.

Ruby liked the little alleyway settlement. She'd built the place up to a higher point, outfitted it with turrets, and made sure the doors were secure. Really, she didn't need to check up on the place. Cait was doing an excellent job of "keeping up spirits"―though in her case, like with Hancock, that sometimes meant _using_ said spirits to do so.

 _Whatever it takes, in the wasteland, to make it work._ She didn't have any more illusions about what could be, out here. You got better, or you _died._ There was no in-between.

She nodded to the guard on the post just inside the door, waved at Cait, and moved into the settlement. Behind her, she heard a brief exchange between MacCready and the ex-cage fighter that made her snort.

"Well, hello, handsome," Cait started. MacCready, pulling his weight in smoothness, flirted with her for a moment or two. Normal conversation for both parties, really. Cait flirted with just about everyone, but for the robots and Danse. She'd tried her hand at Danse, but Ruby couldn't tell if she was flirting or not―Danse had risen so awkwardly to her comments, Cait had given up talking to him.

She shook her head free of the thoughts and moved to the workshop, examining the contents for supplies. Had been scouring the wastes for fertilizer and making as much Jet as was humanly possible, making caps selling the chems at various vendors. As much as she disliked chems...

She'd put so many people behind bars for that, before. Ruby grabbed a bag of fertilizer, feeling the weight of the bag. It wasn't her case to judge, anymore. The law of the land was a stiff drink and a heavy gun in your hand.

Damn, but the stuff stank to high heaven. She remembered the taste, and made a face. Supposed Hancock couldn't really taste it―or maybe he could? She knew nothing about ghouls. Didn't seem to bother him, though. Maybe he'd gotten used to the smell.

She was sure, if she asked, he'd tell her some kind of _-ism_ about it. Probably something about how when you're already shit, it couldn't hurt to put _more_ shit into yourself―

That only reminded her of his chiding her about MacCready, before she'd talked to him. She frowned, lowering the bag so that it rested on the workbench surface. That hadn't been so long ago that she didn't recall his choice of words.

Wondered what he'd meant about people lined up. If he meant he thought she was encouraging people to step up and be her travelling partner... no, she doubted that. He'd already asked her about that, once before.

Coupled with his aggressive behavior and him... touching her, like he had... she assumed he had feelings for her. Maybe the kind of feelings that she'd had for MacCready? That was... Ruby shook her head at that. Hancock wouldn't act like _that,_ she was sure. The man―the ghoul―was a self-professed hooligan and avid chem user. They meshed well with ideals and in that they both opposed the firm thumb of the Institute holding down the Commonwealth.

Didn't think he would hold himself back, either. Hancock was tough as nails and had let his feelings be known, before. Whether he was angry at her or he wanted to find out why she kept him around, the mayor was about as blunt as a baseball bat.

Part of the reason she liked _him,_ actually. She chuckled a little. Really did doubt that he was thinking like―

"Why are we carrying around so much sh―stuff?" MacCready started, behind her. Ruby jarred herself into the present, pushing away the thoughts.

"Caps," she said. "Jet sells really well."

MacCready made a noise and leaned against the wall beside the workshop. "Do we really need the caps _that_ badly?"

Ruby blinked and looked up at him in surprise. MacCready... _not_ wanting caps? It was nearly inconceivable.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked him, poking at his shoulder. A funny tone crept into her voice. "You're always up for that."

MacCready scratched at his nose for a moment, staring out and above her head. Didn't say a word for such a long time, she was worried what he might say once he finally spoke. She knew there was something on his mind. Above all else, she had always been able to pick up on _that._ She frowned, shifted the weight of the fertilizer so it didn't fall, and waited.

"You..." he cleared his throat. "Said something about a day off." He wouldn't look her in the eyes, his gaze on the wires crossing underneath the Alley's second floor.

What? Ruby narrowed her own gaze on the man and frowned. "And you said days off only happened after you're dead," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he said, crossing his arms. "I did. I―" MacCready shook his head. "Just wondered if you were ever... going to actually _take_ a day off."

Ruby frowned, screwing up her face. Hadn't actually thought about taking a day off, at all, and she certainly couldn't afford to do so _now―_

Not with everything that had gone on, and everything that was going to happen. She was still waiting on Sturges to decode the rest of the data on that holotape―the information on how to get into the Institute, the hard way―and as much as Danse might want her to utilize the knowledge of the Brotherhood, she couldn't go back. It was tense, right now, waiting for something to happen; and there was no time to jaunt off or even slow down.

There was no chance of her being _able_ to relax, anyway. Ruby eyed the former Gunner, taking in his expression and wondering just what he was getting at. "It's not likely," she said, suspiciously.

He lowered his arms and picked at something on the back of his glove, staring at his hands. "But we're gonna take down the Institute soon, right?"

"That's the plan," she answered, pulling out another bag of fertilizer and placing it beside the next.

"Can we just―" he stopped himself, and pulled his hat down on his forehead.

"Are you trying to ask me on a date, or something?" she asked, shooting him a glance. "Not like you to act so bashful."

MacCready grabbed her hand as she dipped it back into the shelves under the workshop, and pulled her back up to face him. "Look, I―" he breathed out, noisily. "I'd like to have one nice day before everything goes to hell."

"A nice day," she said, pausing to stare at his eyes under his hat. He looked pained, almost. Had a look on his face that she'd never seen before. It made him look a hell of a lot more serious, more... well, his goofy smile wasn't for _everyone,_ she knew. Nate's hadn't been, either, especially not after he'd taken that war injury to the cheek.

He stared at her for a long time with that intense expression. Made her heart thump a little faster, why she'd told him how she felt. MacCready was as soft as a down pillow, when he wanted to be, but when it came down to business you could sharpen a knife across him. A professional attitude, and he pulled it off fairly well.

"Yeah," he said, finally. His voice was deeper, and it spiked right through her chest and out the other side.

Ruby was good and well flustered, now. Knew it was normal, but dammit, it hurt to feel like that. She tried to pull away her hand―he let go as soon as she moved, uncertainty rippling across his face. "I have no idea what we'd do," she said, carefully, hoping her voice would at least behave. It caught in her throat, anyway. She swore mentally.

"Leave that part to me," he said, as a triumphant smile came across his face.

 _Yeah, he heard it._ Ruby grumbled under her breath. Now she felt like a silly teenager, again. Didn't improve her mood, any, either.

"You'd better not take me up on an overpass to shoot people or something," she snorted, recovering her senses somewhat. "Nice things _don't_ include target practice."

MacCready laughed a little, shaking his head and backing up two steps. "Don't worry, _Jeraldine,"_ he said, teasing her. "I'll think of something."

Ruby growled at him, turning back to the workshop. "Oh, is that how it's gonna be?" She grabbed up a glass beaker and head it by the neck, poking him with the flat end. "I don't gotta worry about you getting me killed. You gotta worry about _me_ getting _you―"_

He grabbed her hand again, but this time he pulled her into a strong hug, laughing in her ear. She could see Cait on the other side of the settlement, giving her a hard look and crossing her arms over her chest.

"If you're going to keep that up," she grunted, his arms squeezing the air from her chest, "you should take your own advice."

"What?" he asked, relaxing his grip a little.

"We came here to make caps, _Joseph._ Sell some _tickets,_ or something, _God."_ She rubbed his back through the rough fabric of his coat, rolling her eyes.

He only laughed, and squeezed her again, and she laid her head onto his shoulder.


	17. A Real Problem

Note: A touch short. I went 800 words over the 3500 limit so redacted for use in the next chapter.

* * *

 _"Heads up!"_ someone shouted.

Ruby jumped up from the desk she'd been sitting at and caught the door frame, stopping herself from falling onto the concrete porch. Two settlers ran past her, their feet pounding the pavement toward the western side of the Hills, as the siren began sounding.

God, could they get a break? This was the third attack on the Hills in the last two days― _the second one today,_ she grumbled―by various elements of the Commonwealth. She grabbed her rifle from the top of the nearby cabinet and made her way down the road toward the footbridge.

The first time it'd been raiders. Those idiots got themselves gunned down by the turrets before they'd set one foot on the asphalt. The second attack was Gunners. They'd attacked before dawn, creeping down through the woods to the north. Danse had spotted them and rallied a defense before they even made it over the creek.

This time―she gritted her teeth and suppressed a groan, sighting in a target. This time it was synths attacking the Hills. _All I need is some ghouls and a yao guai or two and I'd have a goddamned bingo,_ she thought. These were early model stuff, not the fancier kinds, but still deadly.

She fired a little too high and caught the attention of a nearby synth, the skeletal face of the thing turning to glare at her with lidless pinpoint eyes. She admitted the damn things were creepy enough―

Danse's voice rang out over the dust kicked up by the turrets, their barrels rotating as they fired at the mechanical things swarming into the Hills. Ruby was glad he knew his business as well as he did, and that he was sticking around. She hadn't taken him out of the Hills since they'd visited Mahkra and though the settlers had started to complain...

After the latest batch of attacks, they shouldn't have any reason to moan about Danse's strict rules regarding defense. Clearly, his military expertise was working in their favor, repelling the enemy. And this proved that he had no trouble dealing with synths as a threat to anyone, regardless of his own identity.

Ruby kicked a synth away from herself, shooting it as it fell. She'd seen them around the Commonwealth, before; this attack on the Hills was the first time she'd actually encountered them inside of a settlement. Wondered if having Danse around caused them to attack, or if it was simply the escalating tension between the Institute and the Brotherhood―

She was sure it wasn't because of the Minutemen. They'd been off the radar for the last few years, and people hadn't put much faith into their activities. Not until she came along, anyway.

Ruby growled and hit another synth with the butt of her rifle, trying to focus herself on the attack. She really needed to sit down with Preston and get an update on the latest from the Castle, but she'd been _busy._ Busy with―lasers firing into the early morning fog, bullets whizzing past her head. She moved to the side, trying to figure out where the attack had started, shooting toward the footbridge. A few agonized shouts in the distance sounded, and she felt the pain herself. Damn these things for hurting the settlers―she shook her head and pressed the attack.

Once the last of the synths was a scrap pile on the ground, she loosened up a bit and sighed. She'd been too busy with personal issues. Dealing with Danse, dealing with Hancock. Trying to figure herself out, and not paying enough attention to the defense. Obviously something was up...

"Where the heck did _they_ come from?" MacCready asked, coming up behind her. He gestured at the bodies littering the footbridge area with his .44, pushing his hat up with the other hand.

She threw a hand up at the Vault area but kept her eyes on the synth at her feet, trying to think―

"Don't think we've seen these guys here, before," he added.

Ruby looked up at him and sighed. "It's not surprising," she answered. "Shaun knows exactly where we are, after all."

She gave up on trying to think with him around. It wasn't easy to begin with, but now that the air was cleared... she turned to face him. Those _damnable_ emotions again. It wasn't like she could _help_ it.

MacCready frowned as she turned, staring at the dismembered limbs lying around them. "Should stock up on grenades," he muttered.

Ruby felt herself softening. She shouldered her rifle and stepped forward, putting a hand out onto his cheek. _"You_ think that's a good idea?" she teased. smiling at him.

MacCready scoffed and turned his head away. "One time. That happened _once,"_ he grumbled, putting a hand to the brim of his hat and pulling it down. "Cut me a break, already."

"I _liked_ that haircut," she said, chuckling, and turned away from him. She stared at the synths lying on the ground and rubbed her chin.

 _But, in all seriousness... this is not a good sign._ Her hand went up to her mouth, biting a thumbnail nervously. _If the Institute is sending synths to attack us directly, it might mean Shaun doesn't want to let me be anymore. Could be..._

"Hey," MacCready said, coming up behind her. He put his arms around her waist, leaning his mouth to rest beside her ear. "Don't worry about it. We got this."

"I'm not _wor―"_ she started.

"I don't believe this is an appropriate time for affection, Ruiz," Danse said. She jerked in surprise, elbowing MacCready off of her. The Gunner backed away, hands up in defeat, looking down at his feet. Ruby's face flushed with blood, embarrassed.

"This is a new threat on the settlement," Danse added, giving her a calculating look. "We haven't encountered anything beyond the occasional bloodbug and some enterprising raiders, until now."

She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he'd interrupted on purpose or if he really wanted to talk shop. _Could be either,_ she thought, _knowing Danse._ She pressed her mouth together and fixed him with a mean stare.

"The latest spat of attacks on the Hills has been one new enemy after another," Danse continued. "It would appear that our defenses need re-evaluation."

"I was just thinking about that, actually," she answered, moving away from MacCready. She gestured at the synths lying around them. "This isn't nearly enough of a force to take us out― _he_ should know that, too. But why send synths to attack us, here?"

MacCready said something under his breath and backed away as she as Danse discussed the synth attack and the possible meaning of such a small force attacking the Hills.

* * *

"...Sturges is still decoding the holotape," Ruiz said, her thumb jammed firmly into her teeth and a worried look on her face.

"I find it doubtful that was the cause for the latest attack," Danse replied. The two were moving away from the carnage, along the pathway leading into the Hills. "You gave it to the Brotherhood, and they haven't been caused any more grief than usual."

"I suppose you're right," she mused, looking down at the ground in thought. "This is..."

"What's more worrying is that the enemy has come from the north, each time," he added, watching her carefully. Ruiz had been away from the Hills for a week prior to the latest attacks, and had not been made aware of their escalating nature until now. He doubted she would be very happy with the idea that the Hills had become a high-priority target.

"Think they're coming from the Vault?" she wondered, stopping herself in mid-stride. "Synths _can_ relay in and out of places."

"Unlikely," Danse said. "Gunners and raiders don't have that luxury. There's more access to the Hills from the north side; less water to cross, and the footbridge allows for unfettered travel."

"But... _synths_ wouldn't have to worry about the radiation." Ruby shot a frown back toward the footbridge.

"The problem isn't the synths alone, Ruiz," Danse said, informing her of what he was now certain she didn't know. "We've been under repeated attack for the last seven days. This is not related only to the Institute."

Her frown grew deeper as she turned toward the Hills and began to walk more confidently into town. _"Preston!"_ she shouted in an annoyed voice, looking around for the man.

Danse let her move away from him, slowing his stride and falling back to where the ex-Gunner was sauntering. Ruiz would be preoccupied with the matter for a time, and he had... well, he'd not had a proper conversation with the young man since her admission to him.

"MacCready," he said, nodding at him.

 _"Danse,"_ he shot back, as if he were being challenged.

As he expected, the man still viewed him as something of a threat. Whether it was because of his existence―a synth in the Hills―or because of his relationship with Ruiz, he didn't know.

"Whatever I may have done to deserve your ire," he began, shooting the man a look that included a pointed reminder that they were on the same team, "I am willing to make amends."

MacCready stopped walking like a hooligan, tilted his hat back on his head and stared up at him. "Do _what_ now?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Danse sighed and shook his head. "My efforts to maintain peace with you have gone unnoticed, apparently," he muttered. "We have no reason to be at odds, MacCready."

MacCready rolled his eyes and looked away, watching Ruiz slip behind a building on the other side of the Hills in her pursuit of the Minuteman second-in-command. "Guess not," he answered, tonelessly. "...Not _anymore,_ anyway," he added, under his breath.

"I'm not conceding that you _won_ anything," Danse said, staring at the man. "There wasn't competition."

"No," MacCready agreed, a funny little smile creeping onto his face. "I guess not."

"And I can agree to disagree with your... _frivolous_ attitude," Danse went on. "But I did want to discuss something with you. If you would allow?"

The man shot him a suspicious look, then swept his eyes up and down his power armor. "...What?"

Danse sighed again. The man's complete ignorance, combined with his own awkward attempts to gain some stalemate in their strained conversations, was wearing on his nerves. "We need to talk, MacCready," he said, irritated.

"Yeah, okay," MacCready said.

Danse gestured for him to follow him away from the Hills.

* * *

"We've been attacked this many times and you didn't _tell me?!"_ Ruby was asking. "I―Danse said it's been a whole _week's_ worth!"

Preston stared right back at her, keeping his face neutral. She'd found him and cornered him near the south side of the Hills, with the water at his back. Somehow she always knew how to intimidate him, just enough to get him on his toes. If he didn't respect everything that she'd done for him and the others from Quincy...

He could see how nervous she was, right now. Forcing him into a situation where he'd have to tell her the truth _was_ to her advantage. And he _hadn't_ asked her to lead the Minutemen because he thought she was going to run away from it all. Should remember that it was Ruby's superpower to walk into a situation twitching like she needed a fix and coming out as calm as still waters.

"The situation _is_ under control, ma'am," he said, evenly.

"It sure doesn't sound like it," Ruby snapped. She closed her eyes, breathed out, and lowered her hands from her hips where she'd placed them. "Alright, level with me, Preston. What is _really_ going on?"

He turned his head and stared back toward the workshop area, blinking slowly. "Well..." he said, thoughtfully. "The Minutemen are back at full power, now. Not everyone likes that idea." He pressed his mouth together and looked back at her. "I really can't think of any other solution, to be honest."

Ruby rubbed her mouth, then looked down at her hand and dropped it, sighing. "Okay. Okay, _so..._ assuming that the raiders and Gunners are coming after us because of the increased Minutemen presence in the Commonwealth..." She frowned a little. "Did anything change with the Castle? I―I know I've been a little out it, lately―"

 _Out of it._ Preston sighed, internally. That was an appropriate but _underwhelming_ description for the behavior she'd shown, lately. "Ma'am..." he started.

"Don't call me _ma'am,_ Preston. How many times do I have to ask?" she shot back, looking concerned and frustrated.

She would only grow more agitated until someone made her a challenge. Knew that from experience, prior to her getting into all that Brotherhood business and into the Institute... prior to her having her breakdown.

Preston had been more sympathetic to her problems than he could admit. He understood... how it felt, to want to give up and know that he couldn't. Because people relied on _him._ Had thought that it was the end of the road for the Minutemen, _again,_ when she'd started having her trouble. Wasn't like the stress didn't show on her, the red eyes and shaking hands.

The thought made him more than upset, at the time. But he'd asked her for help, and she hadn't said no, and now that she'd recovered she seemed more determined than ever to make it work. Couldn't help but admire her tenacious attitude. Or the fact that, without her, he and the others would have died in Concord. He owed her a lot... including treating her honestly, like a good second in command _ought_ to.

"With all due respect, you're the one who agreed to take on the job," he pointed out, looking her in the eyes. "I'm only showing respect, ma'am."

She stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open in surprise. "Yeah, okay," she said, sighing. _"Sorry,_ Preston. I'm just... I'm rattled by all this."

Preston shifted his weight and lowered his musket, feeling relieved. "The Castle _has_ been reporting a lot more attacks on settlements, but we've handled it."

"How, exactly, do you define _'handled it'?"_ she asked, air quoting the words sarcastically.

"Ma'am―" Ruby gave him a look, narrowing her eyes. Preston snapped his mouth shut, staring at her. After a time she softened a little. He continued only when he was sure she wasn't going to get angry again.

"You were out, and Ronnie was concerned about the casualties we were taking. ...Paladin Danse gave me advice," he said. "We've changed up the patrol routes, so they aren't as predictable. The patrols aren't understaffed. Old and new Minutemen are joining up from all over the Commonwealth." He gave her a look of patient admiration.

Ruby nodded. "New patrol lines _would_ explain why the Gunners are on our asses like stink on a ghoul," she muttered, moving her hand back to her mouth and putting her thumb into her teeth.

"You just don't quit with the insults, do you, sister," Hancock said, startling them. He'd walked up beside them both without either noticing.

Ruby looked up at the sky and then down at her boots, and groaned. _"Dammit,_ John. I might as well _eat_ my goddamn feet, at this point." She shot him a tortured look.

Hancock only chuckled, watching her with a mildly amused face. After a moment he turned to Preston. "Garvey," he said, nodding at him. "What's going on, brother?"

Preston nodded back at the mayor. "I was explaining... The only thing that has changed in the Minutemen, is we've put out more patrols. If you ask me, I'd say the last bunch of attacks on the settlements is because of that."

"Bulls-eyes catch more bullets," Hancock mused. "Wouldn't surprise me. Just about no one can take on the Brotherhood, and ain't no one getting into the Institute without some kind if miracle." He shot Ruby a look. "Damn near everyone knows the Minutemen, though."

"God, we're _too―"_ she leaned her head back and stared at the sky for a moment. "We're not ready for _this_ kind of attention, are we?"

Preston hiked up a corner of his mouth. "We are," he said, staring at her. "Thanks to _you,_ ma'am."

"I don't feel comfortable sending a bunch of well-meaning people to their deaths like this," she muttered.

"If they weren't ready to throw down, they wouldn't bother coming along," Hancock pointed out.

Preston agreed with him. "We've managed to get the Minutemen's good name back," he added. "These people, they'd keep other folks safe, anyway. Having a cause to believe in only makes that easier."

"I suppose," she said, sighing. "Alright, _well..._ if anything changes, let me know. I don't care if it's the middle of the night, or you have to use the radio, just _let me know."_

Preston nodded, touching a hand to his hat. "No problem, General."

He watched Ruby walking away, the ghoul following a few feet behind her. "So you're saying I stink, now?" Hancock asked her, sounding amused.

"Oh, for the love of _God,"_ she moaned.

"Is that your pet name for me? ...You're forgiven," he replied, joking.

Ruby groaned and kept walking. Preston smiled to himself. _Good to see she's come back from all that, though._ Whatever the others had been doing for her... _good on them, too._ Ruby had chosen her companions better than _he_ had, back in the day. Back when he'd joined the Minutemen.

He sighed, and continued his patrol of the waterfront.


	18. Reality Checks

Note: What to do with Hancock. I have _no idea._ *sigh* ...At least Danse makes me laugh.

 _(Minor edit, haha, oh man. Looooong day.)_

* * *

Hancock lit a cigarette, staring at Ruby's back impassively. "You're wound up tighter than the Paladin's armor plates," he said, after taking a long drag.

She'd stopped by the chem station, at the back of a house, and was eyeballing the bags of fertilizer that were stacked up along the base. Glanced back at him, her face drawn. "Not a Paladin, anymore," she muttered, her hands shaking with nerves.

"Need to relax," he said, watching her. Held the cigarette in his mouth and patted his pockets. "I have just the thing―"

His hands stilled in their search, then he picked off a loose thread and flicked it away. Remembered what she'd said before, a little too late. Maybe he needed more, himself, if he wasn't remembering that shit―

"No, thank you," she said, firmly. "I don't want chems, John."

"That's what you expect from me?" he muttered, annoyed with himself even more. Couldn't help but be aggravated, defensive. It was what he expected from _himself,_ he knew.

Ruby hefted a bag of fertilizer. "Does seem to be your _thing,"_ she answered, snarkily.

She really _was_ rattled by the attacks. Her hands kept shaking, as she placed the bag onto the station surface. She was breathing a little faster, clearly on edge―

Wasn't like her to be rude to people, either. At least... well, lately she'd been nothing but rude to him, but she'd been tied up with all that shit about MacCready. Now she was trying to start a fight with him.

Deliberately getting on his ass, it seemed. He didn't know why, but he wouldn't give her the pleasure. "Whatever," he muttered, flicking his cigarette away.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before she turned her head to look at him. "What do you want?" she asked, tiredly. "Seriously. What do _you_ want from _me,_ John?"

"What do I _want?"_ He sputtered out a laugh. Thumbed his coat, considering her. Ruby opened her eyes and stared at him, tiredly. He stared back, trying not to let her see how irritated _he_ was. She didn't back down, just gave him that frustrated look.

"Fine, I'll get out of your hair," he said, finally. Started walking, waving to her as he moved in the direction of the bridge. "Have a good one, Ruby."

"Dammit, John!" she yelled, angrily. "Come back and― _argue_ or something, Christ! Don't just _run away!"_

"That's all I'm good for," he called back, looking at her over his shoulder. Ruby was standing with her hands on her hips, watching him. He shook his head and moved his eyes to the ground in front of him.

Shoulda figured, he thought. They'd had their tiffs, before. Wasn't gonna change, them aggravating each other to the point of frustration. After the last time, he'd wanted to come back after she'd made that big show for him. After she'd showed that she was willing―

He knew why she irritated him―there were too many cooks in the kitchen. After she'd run 'round the Commonwealth with him and sussed out his talents, she'd put him to work and then assumed he'd just... do his thing. Ignored all the camaraderie they'd had like it barely happened, and he'd told her some real incriminating things. Things he might not have said otherwise.

But he was still a leader like she was, even if it was just the one town. He'd stepped out of that image of Hancock as a successful troublemaker by trying to keep up their friendship, and ended running off when he couldn't handle the shit talk. John, showing his face again. Damn.

Hancock rubbed his chin, thinking. Really dug into him. She'd been off-limits for such a long time, and when he'd had a chance to slip in―he'd choked. Wasn't acting like Hancock at all, then. Should've told her exactly what he thought, even if she told him to piss off in the end.

Wasn't a matter of morals. Ideals. Everything she did had to be done, everything she said had to be said. Even the insults, like he'd told her about becoming the Man. Needed that to keep him in check. That was Hancock. Being _John_ was fucking everything up―

Pounding footsteps behind him. Caught his attention a little too late, and he turned to see her barreling down on him. She pushed him back into a hedge, grabbing at his collar. Her Minutemen hat fell to the side, making her hair messy around her face.

"You got that out of your system?" she hissed, green eyes glittering as the sun suddenly came out from behind the clouds. Sunlight lit up her face, showing him the full extent of her expression. She wasn't just picking a fight, she was _starting_ one. Was flat-out angry―and sad, for some reason.

He blinked at her, surprised. Hadn't expected she would run him down like that. It was uncomfortable, and not just because there was a twig making its way up his ass. What was with that look on her face, he wondered. Nodded as best he could at her, letting his arms go limp at his sides.

"Good. I'm getting tired of you _running away_ every time we have a fight." She didn't let go of his coat, her hands wound into the fabric. Right up in his face, now. She was riled up, something _bad._

"I _know_ you want to help people," she added. _"I_ want you to help me help people. If you'd―just work _with_ me―and I know I'm _not the best_ at being nice, sometimes―" She gritted her teeth and growled. "But you're being so goddamn _frustrating,_ right now!"

Too bad she _was_ off-limits, now. Didn't stop him from feeling the same as he had, but... He'd wanted that light on him, not that long ago. He grinned a little, feeling her fingers pressing against his chest. Maybe she didn't know what this _looked_ like, but she had to feel how close she was to him. He put his hands on her hips and tried hard not to grin.

"Being forced into a hedge wasn't how I'd planned my afternoon going, but, hey... I'll take it," he said, chuckling a little.

Ruby scoffed at him. "What chems did you do today," she grumbled. "Acting _like―"_ She started moving away, loosing his collar.

"I see what the problem is," he replied, grabbing her hips more tightly. She couldn't escape, wasn't gonna get away that easy. They'd have this fight on his terms, this time. His terms―whether she liked it or _not._ Owed him that, since the last fight.

"You don't like me _sober,_ that's what it is. We can't get along when I'm not using. When I'm not _kissing your ass,"_ he complained.

"That is _not_ what it is!" she answered, grunting with effort. "I'm tired of you running off every time we have a _problem_ and―dammit― _let me go―"_

Hancock dug his fingers into her, keeping her close to him. "That _is_ the problem," he repeated, staring her right in the eyes. Could feel her hip bones through her jumpsuit, the muscles underneath bunched up in tension. Damn, and that felt great―

Her face was right there. Soft lips pursed and ready, even. Wouldn't be all that hard to steal a kiss―goddamn, and he _would've,_ too, if he wasn't so sure she'd punch him in the teeth for it.

"Is _that_ why you keep trying to leave?" she asked, incredulously. "Because―because you don't like being _sober?_ Or are you―" She stopped herself from finishing the sentence.

He didn't look away. Wanted to enjoy this as long as he could. And at least he _was_ sober. If he'd been high, he wouldn't be able to remember later on. Needed to remember, so he didn't do it again. Using the chems... like he told her, it only got harder _to_ forget.

"Seriously, John, you have to give me a hint, here," she added, after a moment of silence. Her hands dropped to her side, letting him hold her. "I'm not exactly sure _what's_ going on between us." She sounded confused. Acted confused.

She wasn't fighting him anymore. Shit, that was what she did when she was taking down the asshole. Made the bad guy think he'd won and then pulled out the verbal equivalent of a Fat Man, and took 'em down. He'd pushed this too far. _Was_ gonna lose.

He said nothing. He'd only get himself into more trouble, if he said anything. Didn't need that on top of all the other shit... but... felt good, her body up against him like that. Warm. Soft. Didn't want to let her go. Her muscles flexed under his hands, reminding him of what he'd imagined before.

Wished he had a bottlecap, to test his theory. His mouth curled up.

Ruby put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him gently. Her eyes were on his collarbone. "Alright, let me go," she muttered. "You had your moment. Now you have to wait for the _next_ one."

He was beat. He let go, releasing her from the awkward position. That twig started setting up real estate in a real tender spot, _anyway._

Wouldn't forget that feeling of her pressed into him, though―

Once she'd pulled herself away, she put her hands on her hips again and glared at him. "I need your help, John," she said, not angry but annoyed. "Not... _this._ I don't really understand why you've been so―" she rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand and squinted at him. _"Angry?_ And I _don't_ know how to make you feel better."

He didn't know what to do about it, either. Was enough to make him want to clean out a medicine cabinet, not to deal with this. Couldn't look her in the face. "Not angry," he told himself.

"John―" she sighed. "Look, we have a really bad history of making each other mad. You―keep trying to leave, and―" She shot him an exasperated look. "You can go back to Goodneighbor. I won't stop you."

"That really what you want?" he asked. Picked up her hat, patted it free of dirt and handed it to her.

"I asked you what you wanted from me," she reminded him. "You don't want to answer that, neither will _I._ You came with me because you wanted a break from Goodneighbor. Maybe the break's _over."_

Shit, she was _pissed._ He couldn't help but smile, though. All that coldness she was giving him was why he'd like going 'round with her, to begin with. Taking down the tyrants.

"Why're you so angry, sister?" he asked, suddenly. "Seemed fine, before. Now you're nothing but snapping teeth and claws."

"...These attacks―all this escalating tension―" she breathed out, relaxing herself slightly. "This is _serious,_ John. Everything I've been working for since I got out of the Vault, everything that we've done for the people―this is all for the common _good―"_

"No," he said. "You came along, ruffled feathers, riled up the Commonwealth. Made your mark on the world. Because you were an angry mama wanting your son back, not because you wanted to help people."

She glared at him, furious. "Don't you even accuse me of that selfish kind of shit, John Hancock. Not _you."_

He shrugged, crossed his arms over his chest. "Seems your _thing,"_ he muttered, halfheartedly.

"Do you think, for one second, that I ever thought I _would_ find Shaun?" she asked, her voice wobbling. "That I would find him out here, and everything could go back to how it _was?_ After―" She started tearing up. "After _Nate,_ and― _no. I never thought I would see him, ever again._ And when I _did_ find him?" Her voice grew angry. She pressed her hand to her mouth, muffling her words. "I've _tried._ I've tried and tried, and all the hope I thought I had―" She closed her eyes. "You know all about putting on a _show."_

He did know. "It's a shitty gig," he agreed. Wasn't anything else he could say.

"The only reason I kept moving... was because I _am_ a part of this, whether _I like it or not."_ She wiped her face and looked up at him. "You felt the same about McDonough, in Diamond City. About the people he tossed out. And _Shaun―"_ Tears fell from her eyes.

That was fucking painful, to watch. Her tearing up for her son was worse than watching her crying for the Brotherhood asshole. Hancock shifted his weight and watched her, not sure what to say. "Still holding on, though," he managed, watching her start to dissolve. "That's alright."

"...I am. But _only_ because―" She breathed out and dropped her hand to her side, limply. "I don't need you acting like―whatever you're hung up on, I don't know. But we're friends. And friends stick by each other, no matter what. Having friends in this fucked-up world is more valuable than you could ever imagine."

 _Still_ wanted him around. Hancock watched her face, saw how vulnerable she still was. She'd martyred herself to love that idiot, and she was paying for it. Couldn't talk to _him_ about something as important this? _Bad_ sign.

...Might still mean there was a chance for him, if he even wanted to hope at all. Ruby's hope seemed like it was stuck up on a high ledge, buffeted by winds and rain and the occasional Deathclaw stomping through. Like she needed more hands than she _had_ to keep it from falling off.

She needed that damned heart he had. _John_ wasn't gonna get any better if he left. Knew that from experience. Had to handle this... like Ruby would, and march right in and lay down the law. _That_ was the way to do it.

"I'll stick around," he said, watching her. "But you really gotta watch them insults, sister. A brother might get offended."

Ruby laughed, a tiny little laugh... but it was there. "I know." She rubbed her upper arm and frowned at the ground. "I need you to keep me on _my_ toes. You're better at that than me."

"That a promotion?" he asked, smiling faintly. "Chief of reality checks? Got the experience, I guess."

She laughed, again. "Well," she said, sounding a little relieved, "you said it, ages ago. I don't like being the Man any more than you do. But I _have_ to."

"Hope a pay raise comes with this shit," he muttered.

"You get paid with more shit than you can handle," she replied.

"...So _that's_ why you're making Jet," he said, trying not to grin.

She groaned at him. _"John..."_

He could only laugh.

* * *

"A _private_ talk, huh?" MacCready said.

Danse turned his head to the young man. The area north of the settlement was thickly wooded. The trees cast shadow onto both of them, branches moving slightly with the wind. The ex-Gunner's eyes were hard on his, when he met his gaze.

Danse shifted himself into a better stance and kept his eyes on the man. He was adequately aware of how to carry himself as a threat. Ruiz hadn't ever reacted to that; she'd simply treated him as... _Danse._ Whether he was a friend, a synth, or a brother, she had always regarded him as Danse and nothing more. That was one of the reasons he'd come to enjoy her company so much.

Her attitude was refreshing. Honest, truthful. Given what had occurred since he'd met her―he appreciated everything she'd done, and was grateful to have the pleasure of continuing their friendship.

But, MacCready―MacCready's attitude was full of deliberate ignorance. Everything that he did, he'd done out of sheer obstinate _willfulness._ His contract with the Gunners―who were a group of thugs and murderers―had been broken and he'd not bothered to finish his business with them. Not until Ruiz came along to help him.

The man was lazy, when it came down to action. He whined constantly about his own problems. Danse could only assume that he was afraid of silence, as often as he griped. If someone were to ask him what good quality MacCready had, if any, he could _only_ offer up a halfhearted mention that he seemed to dislike profanity.

There wasn't very much about the man that he _could_ tout as character strength.

"We need to talk about Ruiz," Danse stated, neutrally. Watched MacCready's face move from annoyance to anger.

MacCready made a grumbling noise and brought his fists up, as if to fist-fight. "Alright, we'll make this fair. Step out of that tin can and let's _go."_

Danse narrowed his eyes at him. "That was _not_ my intention," he said, his thin patience near to snapping.

"You're mad I got the girl," MacCready said, rolling his eyes. "And here you said there wasn't a _competition―"_ He smiled, grimly. "Doubt you'd drag me out here just to _talk."_

"You aren't competition," Danse intoned, loudly. He stared at the man for a brief second before letting his anger get the best of him. "Stop being a _fool,_ MacCready. Letting ourselves get to the point of a physical altercation would only make matters _worse!"_

"What _ever,"_ MacCready whined. "You know I'd kick your ass, Danse."

Danse raised an eyebrow at him. MacCready kept his fists up, glaring at him, jabbing the air. The idiot _was_ expecting a fight. _How impertinent._

"Very well," he agreed, reaching out with one hand and grabbing MacCready by the collar. "But if you insist that we're to fight, we do so on _my_ terms."

He lifted him into the air and turned, moving a few wide steps toward the water, as the ex-Gunner squirmed under his grip, kicking him repeatedly in the chest. Danse dislodged his wiry grip on the power armor, tossed him into the creek and watched him floundering in the shallow water.

"If you've sufficiently calmed down, I _would_ like to have a serious discussion, MacCready," he said, after a moment. He'd enjoyed the dunking, but it served no real purpose. Other than to douse the jackass' temper, which... did not appear to have worked, unfortunately.

MacCready coughed and hit the surface of the water with a fist in anger, pushing himself up onto one knee and staring at him. "Ugh!" he spat, then grabbed up his sodden hat and jammed it onto his head. "That was _cheating,_ dammit!"

Perhaps he was wrong about the profanity. The bad language only made the next part of this conversation that much _easier,_ however. MacCready stared at him insolently as water dripped into his eyes.

"You should know better than to pick a fight with a better man," Danse remarked. "You are disrespectful, ignorant, and _willfully stupid―"_ MacCready's face kept getting worse and worse in its contorting state "―but Ruiz cares for you, and because of _her_ I will not tolerate your shenanigans any longer. You are better than this ridiculous image you've crafted for yourself, MacCready. That is _one_ of the reasons I told Ruiz I wouldn't let you live down my standards."

MacCready looked confused, standing up from the creek. "What the hell are you―" he jammed his mouth shut, and frowned.

"Ruiz has said that I am her _brother."_ Danse kept his unforgiving gaze on the dripping man, with no intention of letting him escape this judgement. "She knows that I will support her in whatever endeavor she makes. You, on the other hand, have been nothing but a distraction for her―"

"I don't need to explain myself to a damn _synth,"_ MacCready snapped.

"No. You don't," Danse replied, dryly. "And I tolerate your existence just as mine is tolerated by the others. But if Ruiz heard you speaking like that, would _she_ be as forgiving? She's accepted me for who _I_ am. You are now in a position that you _don't_ want to be removed from." He set his jaw. "And if your behavior doesn't change, you will not _enjoy_ that position for very much longer."

The ex-Gunner stared at him, confused and angry. He continued his diatribe. "You have a family," he said. "You are aware of how one acts when one's family is endangered. Your foolishness has gotten Ruiz hurt on more than one occasion, whether by accident or―" he shot the man a glare that made him flinch "―by purposeful intent. And if you do not shape up..."

Danse snapped out a hand and grabbed his collar again, drawing the man closer and leaning down to put his face into his. _"I **will** shoot you."_

MacCready stared back at him, standing on his tip-toes to maintain his balance. He said nothing. _"Are we clear, MacCready?"_

"...Yeah," the young man said. _"Yeah,_ we're clear."

 _"Are_ we?" Danse's eyes searched his for confirmation.

"Yeah. _You're_ an overbearing ass and _I'm_ a spiteful idiot. I think that's pretty clear," MacCready snapped. "Let me go, already."

"So long as you mind your actions around Ruiz, I will not have cause to harm you." Danse lowered him to the ground but remained close. "You _will_ treat her better than you have in the past, and you _will_ prove to me that you mean well."

"Your standards are impossible," MacCready whined, brushing off his collar and putting it right.

Danse raised his rifle and gave him a pointed look. "If that's truly how you feel... you should _start running."_

MacCready only glared at him, standing very still. He refused to allow him the pleasure of shooting him. Whether it was because he wouldn't back down from the challenge to do better or because he agreed that he _should_ do better for Ruiz, Danse didn't know.

He felt one side of his mouth curling up and nodded, slowly. It was, however, _one more_ character strength that could be added to a hopefully _growing_ list.


	19. Duncan

Note: *cough* LadyAvon *cough* This one's on you ;)

Took some liberties with MacCready's story, here, hoping it works.

* * *

 _Always._

MacCready had his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, leaning against a tree north of the Hills. Danse had stomped off a while back, after he'd realized that MacCready wasn't going to show him his back and risk getting shot. The only response _that_ prompted was a chuckle and a swift about-face as the former Paladin left him alone in the woods, still dripping from being thrown into the water.

He'd been staring at a rock for the past half-hour, doing nothing―no. _Not_ nothing. Thinking. Trying not to lose his temper. Imagining himself staring at that asshole's face through a scope.

 _Yeah. Thinking._

Because he was _angry._ Because he didn't know if he could keep his temper inside the settlement. Because Danse had just given him some kind of ultimatum and he didn't know if he could face _her,_ right now―

Thinking he was a coward because of that, even if he hadn't stood down from Danse's challenge. At least _Ruby_ hadn't ever threatened to _shoot_ him. If _she'd_ tried... he smiled. She'd gotten better at shooting. Not by _enough,_ though.

As funny as the thought was, he still couldn't put away the anger. Tried to think about something else, something nice―something like―

Ruby said she wanted to be something more. They hadn't had the _time_ to really... MacCready blinked as the sunlight grew stronger. To get more _comfortable._ There weren't many safe places out in the wastes, for them to...

Ruby barely slept. He'd asked her about that, but she said it was an old habit. Muttered something about legal papers needing filing. Pre-War stuff. Stuff he'd never be able to figure out, anyway, and by the time she'd put her head to a mattress, he was already asleep. The chances of them being able to find a moment truly _alone―_

Like that time up at the Vault. Without... well, everything that'd been the reason why she went there. He wanted...

Just her and him, sitting somewhere, holding onto each other and never letting go. _That_ was what he wanted. He still remembered how tightly she'd held on, and how badly she'd been shaken. How much he wanted to hold her and just... make everything _better._

He'd felt comfortable enough inside the Vault, to try to make things better. Hadn't told her the truth, back then. Told her the truth about _herself,_ that _she_ wasn't okay. But hadn't been able to really tell her everything, about―

MacCready pushed off the thought and tried to focus himself. He'd been comfortable enough to touch Ruby, up at the Vault. To hug her, without wondering if she was going to pull away or elbow him off, unlike...

He scoffed, crossing his legs. After the synth attack, he'd tried to hold her―and it didn't pan out, of course. Couldn't get a moment alone in the Hills. Just like that time up in the Vault. Danse coming back and finding her clinging to him, treating the situation like he was in charge. Telling him he didn't trust him, not for a moment.

Wouldn't surprise him if _Danse_ had his own idea for getting Ruby, back then. Now that he thought about it, it made that comment about "not being the right fit" all the more unsettling.

Danse thinking he had a right to tell her when she was allowed to hug him? Bullshit. That stupid comment about _affection_ made sense, if he thought about it like that. He was jealous, plain and simple. All his talk about being better, and Danse couldn't even admit to himself he was jealous.

MacCready glared at the rock so hard he felt like he could break it through sheer willpower. Well, the asshole didn't stand a _chance,_ anymore―

And Danse's stupid pep talk? Just like all the other times they'd had a conversation, it'd ended up with MacCready put out and Danse thinking he'd won. MacCready knew he didn't stand a chance against the freak in that power armor, but―

Could've gone a lot worse. Danse was right about Ruby being forgiving. She was almost _too_ forgiving. Brought to mind some things he needed to get off his chest, and... if he didn't make good again on his promise to Duncan, to do better...

He _would_ lose everything. Wouldn't admit that the synth was right about what he'd said. Couldn't argue he was in the wrong, either. His pride wouldn't let him, and... hell, that pride was what got him into this scrape to begin with. _Dammit_ _―_

He really _had_ gotten her hurt. More times than he'd wanted, he knew. Danse was holding him accountable for the times he'd fucked up, because he should have known better than to lob a Molotov into a room with a leaking fuel tank―

Maybe she'd told him she broke her arm because she fell into the Gullet, and he'd put two and two together. MacCready had been out with her at the time. Wasn't like he _didn't_ have a reputation for making mistakes and causing accidents.

Even if Danse didn't know... it really _was_ his own fault. MacCready sighed, tilted his head down, and stared at his feet. She'd picked him, right? She wanted _him._ Not _that_ fre―

"Did anyone find out where the synths relayed in, from?"

It startled him, her voice cutting through the trees. He turned his head to see Ruby coming over the creek and toward him. Watched her moving down the hill, only pushing himself into a stand when she got closer. She still looked unhappy. _Join the club,_ he thought, crossing his arms over his chest.

He shrugged. "Don't think so," he said, successfully keeping the anger out of his voice.

Ruby pursed her mouth and put her hands on her hips. Standing like that, she reminded him of when Lucy would get irritated at him―

He felt the ache, but ignored it. Watched her looking up at the rocks that led up to the Vault entrance, saw her shaking her head. "We've got to end this, now," she said, firmly. "I _won't_ have Shaun's miscreations coming down on innocent people. Need to ask Sturges if he's done with―"

"You forget something?" MacCready interrupted, staring at her. He knew how important dealing with the Institute was, but... she'd _promised._ That day off.

Ruby's head swiveled back to him with a sharp look, her eyebrows drawn together over darkened eyes. "I can't remember everything, MacCready," she said, grumpily. "What did I forget, this time?"

He leaned back onto the tree and went back to staring at the rock. "Never mind," he grumbled. The anger had slipped back into his voice. Dammit, and he'd been trying to let that go―

She frowned, staring at him. "...What's gotten into you?" she asked. "I know _I'm_ not in the best of moods, but―"

"Nothing," he muttered, staring at the rock. Could see her out of the corner of his eye, see her growing frustrated.

"Okay..." Ruby lowered her hands from her hips, holding them at her waist. "Look, I know we've not really had time to..." She stared at her hands, looking nervous. "Well, we haven't had time for...for this." She motioned at the both of them, with one finger. "What with everything going on." She sighed. "I'm sorry. For elbowing you, too." She made a face.

"It's nothing, Ruby," MacCready repeated. "Nothing to do with _you,_ anyway." He shifted his weight and clenched his fists. Still angry. Didn't wanna take it out on her.

She moved closer, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. "Hey," she said, a little softer. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know."

"I know," he strained out, but left it at that. Wasn't about to let her get in the middle of this―thing―that Danse was on about. Knowing her, she'd place herself firmly in between them and verbally thrash the both of them.

MacCready opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a blonde head suddenly thrusting itself under his chin. Ruby was leaning onto his chest, her arms wrapped around his hips, drawing him into her. He closed his eyes and held her, feeling her slow breathing, as she pressed him backward into the tree.

"You wanted to have a nice day, right?" she said, her voice muffled by his coat. "Before it all goes to hell, you said."

"Yeah," he said, opening his eyes to stare off into the Hills. Didn't know what he'd expected. Of course Danse was standing there, watching him. MacCready narrowed his eyes at the synth freak. _For the love of―_

"I don't know if we _can,_ MacCready." Ruby rubbed her forehead on his shoulder and sighed. "There's―all these attacks. The Institute is sending synths to attack us, now. ...Maybe it would be better to wait until after―"

MacCready didn't hear what she was saying. Danse was staring pretty hard at them, flicking his eyes from Ruby's head to MacCready's face. Had a look on his that wasn't pleasant. MacCready knew he'd probably like to shoot him, right this moment. He glared right back at him, unfraid.

Who cared what _he_ thought. _This_ was what was happening―

But if Danse was gonna keep score like _that,_ watching them like―well, MacCready had his own secret weapon. Wasn't anything keeping him from taking Ruby out somewhere, away from here. That freak couldn't even leave the Hills without the Brotherhood trying to kill him―

"How about _now,"_ he asked her, suddenly. "Let's go somewhere."

"What?" she muffled.

"These guys got the attacks under control, right now," he said, looking down at her hair. "Got that fre―got Danse, watching out for them. Garvey, too. They'll be okay."

Ruby turned her head and he felt her nose brushing against his collarbone. "But what about―"

"If we don't get out of here now, we'll _never_ have that day off." Danse was still staring at him. "Right now is the _best_ time to go."

"Maybe," she said, slowly. "Well, I..." Her hands tightened on his back. "Where would we go?"

MacCready laid his head down on top of hers, and sought out an ear through the curls. "That's my secret," he said. "Remember?"

Ruby sighed, and let go of him, pushing herself away. "MacCready―"

"Just trust me." He gave her the best smooth look he could, watching her face.

She leaned back on her heels, and closed her eyes. "I _do_ trust you," she said. "I..."

He watched her for a moment as she tried to collect her thoughts. "You're a mess, Ruby," he said, crossing his arms again. "You can't even think straight, with everything going on. How are we supposed to take down the Institute, if―" He made a frustrated noise.

"I always manage something," she muttered, opening her eyes and staring at the ground. Rubbed her shoulder and glanced back at the Hills. She must have seen Danse standing there, seen the look on his face.

" _'Everyone needs a chance to let it out.'_ " MacCready shifted his weight again.

She looked back at him, frowning. "What―" she started. "That― _oh."_

"You said, no matter what's going on, if I wanted to talk to you..." he let his voice trail off. "Well, I _do."_

"Yeah," she said. She hiked up a corner of her mouth and gave him a tired smile. "Okay."

"Let's get out of here," he told her. "Just go away for a day and―" he snapped his mouth shut. Danse was moving toward them, over the ground. Christ, could he make it any more obvious that he was spying―

"Okay," Ruby said again. She started walking toward the east, away from the footbridge area. "Let's go."

MacCready threw a triumphant look at Danse before keeping pace with Ruby. The freak made a face, stopping himself short to watch them leaving. Ruby kept walking. Whether she saw him or―didn't matter. MacCready'd won _this_ one.

"I was serious about not shooting people, though," Ruby reminded him, as they walked away.

* * *

"I don't know whether to throttle you or throw you off this thing," she growled, staring at MacCready through the murky light of the predawn.

He shot her faint smile and shrugged, leaning against the overpass support. "You said no shooting people," he answered, the smile fading. "Didn't say no overpasses."

She let her face fall, grumpily. "I didn't think you'd bring me up on one," she muttered. "Seriously, after all the times I've fallen from―"

"I got you, Ruby," he said, seriously. Gave her one of those heart-melting intense looks he pulled off so well. She couldn't help it but to let the feelings get to her. But... his body language said he was defensive, and she wasn't sure what was up―

"Alright―" she threw her hands out, in confusion. "But why _here?_ Of all the overpasses to pick from―" she gestured out at the land below them, then at the ruins of Quincy. "Why _this_ one?"

"To be honest..." he said, sadly. "This is the first part of the Commonwealth I saw, when I came north."

She blinked at him. Wasn't sure of the significance of that. She turned to look out over Quincy, at what had been left after the Massacre.

There was the church where Sturges had lived. Mama Murphy's little stash had been squirreled away on a balcony somewhere in the tangles of lights that hung through the town. She'd read Jun's terminal entries talking about Kyle, even though it hurt her to know what would come for the boy. She hadn't found Shaun, yet, and the pain was sharp for her―

All the people who'd been chased out of the town―the Minutemen who'd died protecting the settlers―Mama Murphy, Sturges, Jun and Marcy, they'd lost so much. She'd been to Quincy, she'd taken out the Gunners that clung to the place. Took revenge for the settlers who'd come to _her_ home and made a new life there. Quincy wouldn't be the same, ever again, but...

Danse had been with her, that day. He didn't seem to like the Gunners any more than anyone else in the Commonwealth did, and was happy to mow them down. Her exploration of the place was cut short by a call from the Minutemen, to aid―

Ruby shook her head and cleared it of those thoughts. Didn't need to be thinking about work, right now. This was... the day off. She'd told MacCready she would go with him. Owed him to put her mind to this, not...

"When I was here, before," he said, staring off into the distance. "There was a town here. Not just this Gunner crap, but an actual town. All those people in the Hills were here." He looked down at his feet. "Me and Lucy..." He sighed.

"I thought you came here by yourself?" she asked, slightly concerned. If he'd―if he brought his family up here... where could they have lived? There were too many raiders, too many Super Mutants, and― _wait,_ he'd said something about that. What was it...?

He open and closed his mouth, sighing through his nose. "Me and Lucy came here after we left D.C. Was a mistake." He rubbed his eye, coughing. "I―look, I haven't told you everything. I didn't expect you'd want to―" He crossed his arms and tilted his head down, hiding his face. "That you wanted more than friendship. You deserve the truth."

"I..." she answered, watching him. "Well, if you'd wanted me to know, you'd have told me, MacCready."

Her own problems had been aired. Had been spread around the Commonwealth. It'd never occurred to her to ask any of the others for more information, because, well...

It wasn't her _place_ to ask that sort of thing. Anyone who'd needed help―she'd offered it, and hadn't asked many questions. _Did a poor job of cross-examining the witnesses,_ she told herself. _Shame on me._

"You never said anything about what Vadim said," he went on. "When we were in Diamond City."

Ruby bit her lip. "...I think we've established that I've got memory problems," she muttered, sorely.

MacCready nodded, and coughed, wiping his nose. "Aren't many options down there, but up here―" he gestured at Quincy again. "Up here, there's money. More money than you'd want. Maybe more than you'd ever need."

"The Gunners," she said, staring out at the ruins.

"Already knew the job," he said, bitterly. "Worked for Talon Company, down in the Capital." He shook his head. "Shouldn't have. Lucy probably knew, but―"

"It's okay, MacCready," Ruby said, shutting down the line of thought. "When did you come back to the Commonwealth?"

"...Uh," he coughed, rubbing his nose again. "That's the thing."

"You..." She looked at him over her shoulder. _He's nervous?_ she thought. More than he'd been, before.

"I never left," he said abruptly, shooting her a glance. _"Couldn't._ The contract with the Gunners―I couldn't break it. Not with my family still here. _We_ couldn't leave."

Ruby frowned, turned back to him. "But you―"

"Said I left them behind," he finished. "Old habits die hard. I told you I was a _liar."_ He slumped down against the overpass support, looking miserable.

She sighed. "Alright," she said, crossing her arms and staring at him. MacCready tilted his head down and hid his eyes again. "Why tell me now? It's not like it..." She shook her head. "It doesn't _change_ anything, does it?"

"I thought... well, you..." he grimaced and made a frustrated noise. "If you want me to go, I'll go. Don't need... me, making things difficult―or lying like I have―"

"What?" Ruby scoffed, dropping her arms and moving closer to him. "Why would I want you to go? I―"

"All that―with Daisy," he mumbled, interrupting her. "Was a show. Just to be careful. I couldn't trust... that you would be able to get the cure. Duncan isn't on any homestead."

She drew in a sharp breath. "MacCready―"

"I... If we're doing―" he motioned between them with one finger. "This, then―" he sighed, and looked up at her from the slump. "I have to trust you with the truth. The _whole_ truth." His eyes were shining in the dim light. If he started crying again...

"And the truth is?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him and pressing her mouth together. She could guess where he was going with this. Didn't like the lying, but... really didn't want to see him getting upset.

"He's here, in the Commonwealth." MacCready dropped his gaze and blew out a puff of air, as if he were relieved. "I―Look, I had good _reason―"_

"I understand, MacCready," she said, softly. "I _do._ It's... okay."

"If you say so," he said, awkwardly. "I get it, if you don't want... me, around."

Ruby stared at him, crossing her arms again. Would have to do some hard thinking, but really, this revelation only made him more... _MacCready._ Didn't change anything beyond―

"Well, you're definitely not going into the Institute with me, now," she said, looking away.

He glanced up, sharply, lowering his hands and slumping even more. "Don't blame you," he muttered.

"But that's only because of Duncan," she added, bringing her eyes back to him. "Not because I want you to go away." She blew a piece of hair out of her face. "He needs you. I need you, too, but―I'm not going to take a parent away from a child, for _any_ reason. You _know_ that."

MacCready straightened up a little. She watched him, swallowing a dry lump in her throat. "I want you to stay, MacCready. I'm doing what I can to make things work. You are, too, I know."

"We're only human," he muttered. An angry look passed over his face, briefly.

"Doesn't matter what we are," she said, pointedly. "Whether we're synth, or ghoul, or human beings―" She stood straighter herself, glancing to the northeast where she knew Diamond City was. "We are who we _are."_

She moved even closer to him, staring at his face. "And that's the way it _should_ be," she added, softly.

MacCready stared at her, blinking furiously, before standing up and wrapping his arms around her. He shuddered, moving to put his head on her shoulder. She grabbed the back of his head and interrupted the motion with a kiss, pushing him backward into the concrete.

He grunted as his back hit the support, moving one of his hands to the back of her head and threading it through her hair. She only pulled away when he broke off the kiss, reluctantly.

"For once in my life, everything's going right... and I have you to thank for it," he said, looking her in the eyes. "I don't think anyone in the world could ask for a greater gift than that."

Ruby smiled, laid her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. "I'm still going to throttle you, though," she muttered, patting his chest. "For the overpass thing."

He laughed, roughly. "Yeah, I figured as much."


	20. Make Sense

Note: I've never done drama before. It's _hard!_ Forgive me the delay. Thank you to FalloutGamerGirl for the inspiration. (I removed this temporarily to address a slight problem, but I was in error. Sorry.) _minor edit_

* * *

Sunrise in the Commonwealth was always an interesting experience. The muted colors flooding the sky, the cool air being warmed up around oneself as the light hit the irradiated earth―the smell, which she was still getting used to even after months of being in the Commonwealth. Ruby hadn't really considered the beauty of a sunrise, before. It...

Well, it seemed unimportant. Especially when compared to starting a family, buying a house, or excelling in her career. Even waiting for Nate to come back. The sun would always rise. Nate... might _not_ have come back.

And that damned Vault, what happened with Shaun―it all seemed silly to contemplate a sunrise, up on an overpass in the wastes.

She'd jerked out of a sound sleep when the moon was well over the middle of the sky, long before the sun managed to pull itself over the tattered horizon. The nightmare she'd been having felt so real―she groaned, lowly, and covered her eyes.

She lifted her Pip-Boy from beside the mattress. 4:30 A.M. and wide awake. She sighed and dropped her arm, staring out at the edge of the world from the height of the overpass. Stifled a yawn, wishing she had a blanket. Wasn't much she could do about that one, but... it would have been nice, to curl up and _try_ to go back to sleep.

She stared up at the sky, thinking. Never had slept much, even before Shaun was born. It was old hat for her to be awake at odd hours of the night, when an idea seized her and her mind wouldn't quit torturing her. Most of the time that'd applied to court cases―though, one failed instance of crochet came to mind. At the time she'd thanked God Nate had never known about her attempt to make a baby blanket. _Should have remembered those stupid socks..._

But Nate would have encouraged her, no matter how bad the end product turned out. He would've said something sappy and heartwarming and she would've melted like an ice cube in the summer sun. It was one of the reasons she'd loved him.

From behind her on the mattress, MacCready threw an arm over her side and pulled her into him. She didn't mind that―he was still asleep, and she didn't really want to get up from the mattress―but she adjusted his hand, moving it to her stomach rather than the northerly direction it had been travelling.

She snorted to herself. Even sleeping, he was trying to push limits. She didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. Same as always, though. Same as Nate, too.

She squeezed his hand, feeling her chest wrench in pain. MacCready might not be... strong enough. Not strong enough to be her backbone, like Nate had. He'd said he had her back, no matter what, but...

He seemed so easily _discouraged._ With everything that had gone on in his own past, his hinting at his depression after losing Lucy, his reluctance to tell her about Duncan... His own admittance that he didn't like to be alone. She wondered if he'd latched onto her like he had because she was an easy target.

It was hard to tell why he wanted to stick around, as often as he asked if he should leave. Maybe that was him trying to make sure she'd not chase him off―she hadn't been the best at cues―but―

Really, she didn't want him to leave. It was _nice,_ feeling normal again. Feeling like―like she had when Nate proposed, the soaring heart rate and nerves that were always on edge. Nice being able to just hold him and―nice to have someone who wanted to hold her back, and―

God, she'd been so rude to him. Pushed and pulled, treated him badly. Should have told him no, way back when... She didn't know why he stayed. She'd probably _never_ know, if things kept up the way they were.

Ruby groaned, and closed her eyes. Same as Nate, again. She'd pushed _him_ around, when they were dating, and he'd just stood there with a baffling smile and _let_ her be mean. He'd never backed down from the challenge, but...

MacCready did the same. Stood up to the challenge, no matter how bad he felt behind his facade. The only real difference was that MacCready gave up quicker. That made her feel worse about putting him through it...

Didn't want to change anything. He was who he was. She just couldn't make sense of it, as it was.

Their age difference didn't help that, either. Ruby made a face. MacCready was almost _ten years_ younger than her. It made her feel―awkward, really, because she was so much more mature than he was. She'd viewed him with an air of childishness, one she didn't think was deserved, but...

With what had happened the previous night―thank God the sun wasn't up, yet. She must've turned a shade of red that didn't exist, yet. If _that_ was his idea of a day off―he'd made it _adequately_ clear―and it had been enjoyable, but she still―

She still felt a little ashamed. Her face was slowly turning purple with all the breathing she wasn't doing. Ruby let out the held breath in a rush, and squeezed his hand again. Age didn't matter, right?

She _knew_ there wouldn't be another day off until the Institute was dealt with. Her heart sank, thinking about that. This whole time, from the moment she'd left the Vault to her getting into the Institute, to... to declaring war on a man whom she might have raised―between her scrambling for allies around the Commonwealth, and getting used to the world―

She'd been lost to the grief. And MacCready _had_ been her backbone. All his character quirks aside, he'd never expressed doubt in her, never tried to criticize her or fight with her. He didn't care who she'd sided with, to a point.

Of course he didn't like the Brotherhood, but she knew why. They'd talked about it, and she was confused at his encouraging her to join, but... well, it made sense, in a way. If she'd found Shaun through the Brotherhood―and MacCready understood how much it meant to her, even back then―

Unlike Danse and his lofty goals, MacCready only wanted her to be herself. Danse pushed his own expectations. Pushed a limit of what he thought she was capable of, rather than what she actually intended to do with herself. That push hadn't gone unanswered, but...

She wished she could have been able to trust the Brotherhood more than she had. After Maxson acted as he had, she couldn't bring herself to go back there. Any place that considered Danse their enemy was not a place for her to go. Not when he'd proven his value to them, tenfold, and intolerance was the answer.

Danse wouldn't understand. She expected that. Hadn't thought about what would happen in the end. It was all politics. Politics she _hated_ to follow.

Even Hancock was singing from a political soapbox. Though they'd fought constantly, she knew he wanted the best for the people around him. His views of this world were more in-depth than hers could be, with her limited knowledge of the Commonwealth. All she'd brought to the table was hope and an ideal that needed to be held to, but he... he had experience with being the monster _and_ the savior.

Maybe she owed him _more_ than a heartfelt apology. She sighed to herself. Needed to work things out with him, still. John had made it pretty obvious that he was annoyed with her. She didn't want to address his apparent attraction to her. Not if they were going to fight like cats and dogs, and not if―she had no idea how to deal with that. How _did_ one continue on, knowing that someone wanted more, but one couldn't give more?

She didn't have anything to base on that. No one but Nate had given her the time of day, before. Now, she had three men who might be―

"Ruby," MacCready whispered, from behind her. Startled her into jumping a little. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't," she said, covering herself with a quick reply. "Too much to think about, I guess."

He shifted position, onto his back, and worked an arm around her shoulders. Pulled her over to face him and laid one hand under his head. She'd noticed before that he needed a haircut, badly. The mess that was his hair always seemed to be molded to fit his hat, no matter the length.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, staring up at the underside of the road.

"I guess," she replied, curling up against him. It was cold out, even with him lying beside her. She plucked at a loose thread in his coat, absently staring at the fabric.

"Is it about Nate?" he asked her, looking down at her through the corner of his eyes.

She didn't meet his gaze. "No," she murmured. "Just... trying to figure some things out."

"Hmm." He swallowed audibly, moving his eyes back to the ruined road. She closed her eyes and laid her hand flat on his chest. "Is it the tin can?" he asked, after a moment of quiet.

"No." She rubbed his chest in a circle. She was aware of how much antagonism had gone on between MacCready and Danse. Maybe something had happened more recently that made it worse; MacCready seemed to be acting a lot more openly about his opinion. She'd have to get Danse in a verbal headlock, if that were the case―

Knowing him, it would only be a reaffirmation of his expectations. She opened her eyes and pursed her mouth, making a face.

"The Institute then, or something?" MacCready's arm around her shoulders squeezed her gently, thin fingers digging into her.

Ruby breathed out and shook her head. "It's you, you ignoramus," she muttered. "You and your... everything." MacCready's hand on her shoulder tightened. "I'm not mad at you," she added, quickly, looking up at him from her position on his shoulder. "Just..."

"Why me, then?" He looked down at her. "Is something... the matter?"

"No." She sighed. "I just... I overthink everything. It's one of those things that makes me, me. You don't have to worry."

"Dunno what _you're_ so worried about, then," he said, his voice growing lighter. "If you've got me on your mind, it must be a good thing." He laughed under his breath, but there was a tone of nervousness to the words.

"Oh, what―" she sputtered, pushing herself up with her elbow, looking down at him. "C'mon, MacCready," she groaned, smacking his chest lightly. "You _won._ Knock it off."

MacCready grinned at her and moved his hand to cup her cheek. "Better than thinking about _other_ things," he said, and his grin fell into a decidedly uncertain smile.

Ruby sighed, and held his cheek. "No matter what," she said, looking at him with a stern face, "I will always love you, you know that."

MacCready gave her a "look" and she felt her stomach churning. He tugged at her ear after a moment of staring at her. "You're... you're _really_ hard to read," he said, sadly.

"Well, I'm telling you right now," she grumbled, pinching his face. "I won't let go. We both _need_ this and―" she faded out after a moment of thinking. "And... I'm _sorry._ I'm an open book. Just... ask."

MacCready smiled, and pulled her into him for another kiss, and Ruby sighed as her chest brushed against his, knowing what it meant―

* * *

"Danse!" the cry sounded, over the busyness of the settlement. Someone had organized a celebration―probably the _ghoul,_ knowing his hedonistic ways―certainly, alcohol had been flowing in abundance and spirits were high.

Ruiz had come up beside him, her eyes on him and not the fireworks that were going off in the distance. "Yes?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

All he could see, outlined by the maddening display in the heavens, was her dark face. Eyebrows up and mouth tugging down into a frown―

"Come with me!" she yelled, cupping her mouth over the loud fireworks, exploding among the cheers rising up from the Hills. She motioned at him to follow her into a building―but―

He frowned. She was telling him to follow her into the house that had been hers, prior to the War. Danse followed, regardless of what objections he might have. He owed Ruiz too much to ignore her, and if she'd gotten over that specific part of her past...

Who was _he_ to ignore her? He'd been pushing for this, since her admission of being in love with the ignorant ex-Gunner.

"Knight," he said, raising his voice over the clamor outside of the building. "What do you need?"

"It's Paladin, actually," she said, her voice lowered in volume but still audible. "Danse, look, I need to _talk_ to you―"

He didn't hear her, for a moment. Before... well, before he'd learned his own nature, he'd known she was destined for authority. He was momentarily upset that she had been promoted and hadn't informed him―that she'd ignored that he was concerned about the Brotherhood, no matter what they―

He remembered that he'd never have a part in that sort of thing, ever again. Another sharp stab to his chest, that. Danse lifted a hand to his chest piece and grimaced. No matter what, he was not Brotherhood. It was an awful feeling.

"Are you listening, Danse?" she was asking.

"Forgive me, Ruiz, it's a bit difficult to hear you," he answered, taking the easy way out.

She sighed, and moved closer to him, grabbing the corner of his armor. "There's been a lot of weird stuff going on," she said, putting her mouth near his ear.

He was ashamed to admit that he'd imagined that sort of thing, before. A slight flush rose to his cheeks, previously thought scenarios brought to mind. Maybe... maybe he was riding the high of the settlement, the excitement of fireworks and something to be excited about―this Fourth of July that Hancock had been selling wholesale to anyone who would listen―

"Danse―" Ruiz chuckled in his ear. "Are you blushing?"

"There's much excitement," he answered, lamely, his body awkwardly bent over hers. "The fireworks, this... sentiment, it's... _infectious."_

Ruby laughed and he enjoyed the sound. She was happy. It was all he could ask for, given everything. He could hear the explosions outside of the building, still. She must have believed his bluff―

"Listen, I wanted to ask you if you could..." she paused, and he felt a flush of warmth come over her own cheeks. "If you could leave MacCready _alone,_ for a while?"

Danse straightened up immediately, ignoring that she had a hand on his armor. She protested briefly, letting go as soon as she realized he wasn't going to give to her. "I'm not sure what you mean, Ruiz," he said, standing up stiffly inside the old house.

"You know exactly what I mean," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "Or else you wouldn't react like _that."_ She put her hands on her hips and sighed. "I _know_ you two don't get along―"

"You cannot expect me to let him _behave_ in the same manner―"

"Danse!" she groaned, throwing her hands up. "You can't change _who_ he is!"

He listened to the thunderous roars outside of the building for a moment, turning an eye to the ceiling. He'd... _hoped,_ that Ruiz would not catch onto the attempt, but he'd been so angered by the young man. Couldn't help but be upset. His goal had been―

He didn't know anymore. The feelings he'd had for Ruiz were still there. He'd not been able to quench the emotion that brewed in his chest, even though he'd tried. Talking to MacCready like he had―

It'd been a stalling tactic. The man's refusal to give up had been reassuring, really. He'd disappeared with Ruiz, into the wastes, for a few days. Meant his tactic had worked, putting the younger man on the run. And... if all it took was one moment of her getting in his face, for him to relive the feelings that made him so uncomfortable...

Perhaps her being away from him was not so _unwelcome._

"I know," he answered, trying not to lose face. "I did tell you that I expected him to live up to my standards, though."

"Your standards are _impossible,_ Danse," Ruiz half-shouted over the fireworks, rolling her eyes. She flicked a hair out of her face. "Listen... I know you and me, we're able to keep ourselves together, yes? Within reason?"

Danse watched her with a steady eye, then nodded. "Yes, Ruiz," he answered.

"Well, _you_ never gave up on _me_ when I needed it," she said, "and I'm not gonna give up on him when _he_ needs it."

He paused. For a moment, the world seemed slowed. He...

He'd never contemplated _that._ That MacCready might need the psychological encouragement. Danse made a face to himself, realizing―MacCready had lost a spouse, just as Ruiz had. Naturally the two of them would gravitate toward one another. It wasn't his say whether or not they deserved each other's company. His actions toward the ex-Gunner had been caught out and were now being questioned by―

By a woman who would always be one step better than him, even with his synth programming and circuitry. He sighed out a chuckle. "I..." he started. "I'm sorry, Ruiz―"

"Don't you start martyring yourself again," she chastised, staring at him angrily. "I _know_ why you and him don't get along. Don't got a problem with that. Just―for the love of _God,_ Danse, at least _tell me_ when you got a problem with him!"

"You have my word, Ruiz," he said, staring at her with unabashed admiration.

 _"Do_ I?" she snapped, staring at him, angrily.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling in spite of himself.

"Don't you start that shit, too, Christ," she muttered, and flailed an arm at him. "Make me feel old. _God!"_

Danse kept the smile, regarding her. She'd _earned_ that. She'd earned his admiration, she'd earned everything he had to give her. If others couldn't see that―despite her admonition that she be told when there was a problem―then he would most certainly give respect where it was due.

"As you wish, Paladin Ruiz," he said, nodding to her.

"Don't even start," she muttered, shaking her head. He made a questioning noise. Ruiz flapped a hand at him, dismissively.

"Ruiz," he said authoritatively, wondering if she'd simply shrugged off the Brotherhood entirely. It certainly _appeared_ so.

"You said―" she snapped, then her voice softened. "Danse... I know you think the Brotherhood is the _only_ solution." He couldn't argue. His head jerked up and down, regardless of what he was and what he had been revealed to be. That much, he'd come to terms with. No matter who―or what―he actually was, he would always be _so._

"I..." she sighed, and rubbed her face. "I don't know if I was ever cut out for the Brotherhood."

This fireworks had died down outside, and her voice was painful to hear. Everything about how she said it, hurt him on a base level. He knew he shouldn't be so sensitive, but―if he was accepting of himself and she was, also, her words _now_ were meant to deliberately wound.

He didn't know what to say. He stared at Ruiz, his mouth opening and closing in confusion.

"Danse," she said, sorrowfully. "I know you mean well. I'll never forget all you've done for me."

God, his―his chest wrenched. Would she finally tell him to leave? She seemed so set on him staying, but―she'd not had anyone else to back her up, then. Now he wondered if her trip out into the wastes with the idiot had changed her mind about him―

That seemed ridiculous, but how was he to know? His position in this group had always been nebulous. None of the others occupied the same space he had, none had been guaranteed that position―excepting maybe MacCready―

He made a frustrated noise, closing his eyes to her. "Ruiz," he said, expressing his confusion and anger.

"For the love of God, Danse," she said, and her hand touched his face. "I said you were my _brother._ You'd dismiss that so easily?"

He sighed, painfully. _"I―"_

"You're conflicted, I know." She sighed. "Everyone seems to think _I'm_ Park Place and this is a goddamn game of _Monopoly."_

She'd lost him completely, again. He cracked his eyes and dared a glance at her. Ruiz was smiling, her face a disbelieving mask of happiness. "Danse, I _love_ you," she told him, and his overworked and confused heart skipped a beat at the admission.

"But I can _not..._ divide my heart among everyone that feels they have a stake on it." She pushed her hair up, out of her face. "I'm sorry that... things didn't work out between you and me. I... I _do_ need you to stick around, okay?"

"Ruiz?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"I want you _here,"_ she said, more seriously, "because you're the only person I trust to watch my ass when we finally get into the Institute."

Danse smiled.

He _agreed._

She always had known what to say, after all.


	21. Party Hat

Note: I've been holding onto this one for a while.

* * *

Preston was standing outside of the bar when the last of the fireworks finished, a final barrage lighting up the skies. He'd not really understood the allure―seemed a bit gaudy, especially to show off the Hills like that. Was practically sending up an invitation to the bad elements of the wastes. Come attack us now, it said, we're all drunk and having a party.

Except they weren't. Well, Hancock was drunk. Preston had seen him wobbling out of the bar waving the flag he used as a belt in the air, waxing poetically about stars and stripes. Hadn't struck him as the emotional type, before, but tensions had been high before the coming battle with the Institute. Maybe it _was_ better to get it out now.

In case it all _ended_ for them, very soon.

He didn't want to think like that. Had dealt with his demons from before, worked out the idea in his mind. Kicked himself for a few weeks after meeting Ruby for offering up the Minutemen to the first person who hadn't ducked and ran at a gunfight. But she'd stuck by. Gotten this place up and going, well before he knew it used to be her home.

He'd thought that his asking her like he had, in the Hills, was lucky. Probably would've never known, if Piper hadn't spread her story all over creation like she had. She called that journalism, but it was fine propaganda for the Minutemen.

Preston stared up at the fading display, his hands on his musket shaking slightly. Maybe it wasn't just the hard-partying ghoul who was emotional tonight. Just knowing that the Minutemen were in good hands was enough to send his heart soaring up with those fireworks.

Hadn't thought he'd ever see them do good again. He sighed to himself, watching the stars coming back into existence. After... well, after the mess in Quincy, anyway.

That was when he'd been forced to admit that the tide wasn't coming back. After Colonel Hollis called in reinforcements, and no one showed. Was just twenty people including the settlers in Quincy, after Clint―

He sighed again, looking down at the ground. Hoped his hat was hiding his face.

Jamaica Plain. Lexington. Concord. One trouble after another followed or waited. He'd led those people through Hell, trying to keep them safe. Lost too many men in the Plain, to keep going. Couldn't surrender; had to push on, had to keep going, or else.

Lexington drove them into the Super Duper mart, lost more there. And when they'd reached Concord and he'd seen the last of the Minutemen fall at the doors, his squad and his friends all dead and gone...

Ruby was an angel in blue. He remembered her walking slowly down the road, the German Shepherd at her side. Watched her through his scope, raising her pistol, the look on her face the same as his had been when he watched Jason fall at the door. But―

Her face stopped being sad the minute she fired that gun. She set her mouth, lowered her eyebrows, and she loosed an unrepentant rage that saved his and the settlers' lives. Ruby'd showed the first signs of her strength, under the bright sun that shone in Concord that day.

 _He'd_ barely been able to keep himself together. Between Mama Murphy's visions―Sturges was the only one who really believed in her, even now―and Jun and Marcy's hot and cold attitudes... He'd felt the crushing sensation in his heart, knew he wasn't going to be able to keep going.

They would have died, all of them. _He_ couldn't stop it from happening.

Preston closed his eyes, feeling the soft swirl of the air around him as old and new settlers streamed around him, standing in the middle of Sanctuary Hills and thanking whoever was watching over him. That she'd shown up. That she'd been a beacon of _hope._

A warm current occupied the space beside him. He opened his eyes and saw Ruby standing there, her hands on her hips and eyes to the sky. She had the pinched-in face she made so often, but it fell into an easy-going smile when he turned his attention onto her.

"Hey," she said, smiling at him.

"Ma'am," he said, his voice barely escaping him.

Ruby frowned, looking at him. Even as dirty as she was, the bright blue and yellow struck out at him in the darkness. If she _hadn't_ come along...

"Do you..." he started, before clearing his throat. "Do you have a minute?"

* * *

"Something on your mind?" she asked, blinking at him. Garvey wasn't normally this nervous. It worried her, a little.

"I know I don't normally... ask for your undivided attention," he started, lowering his laser musket. Looked away from her, toward the south. "I wanted to thank you."

Ruby watched his face for a moment. She glanced out toward the south, over the water and away from the Hills. _He must be... thinking about back then._ About the museum, and Concord.

When she'd stumbled into that fray, being shot at and having to shoot at the raiders that were keeping them stuck, she hadn't really known what to expect. Hadn't even known if there would _be_ people in the ruins, and finding raiders had been a real shock. Finding that civilization was still around... _had_ raised her hopes―

Ruby sighed, staring at the distance. "Preston," she said, slowly turning her head back to him. "You don't have to thank me."

"I do," he said, nodding at her. "If you hadn't come along, pulled us out of that place... We wouldn't have survived."

Ruby rubbed her forehead and glanced back toward the Hills, fighting a smile. "Well―if I'm to believe _half_ of Mama Murphy's stories, I expect she would have killed all the raiders with nothing but some chutzpah and a bobby pin."

Garvey gave a small, sad smile. "Maybe." He shifted his weight, shuffling his feet nervously. "Listen... when we first met, I admit, I had my doubts about you. But you've done nothing but impress me."

Ruby's smiled faded. "I appreciate you giving me a chance, Preston." Something heavy on his mind, tonight. Ruby wasn't sure what to make of it, yet. She straightened herself out and hooked a thumb into her belt, glancing up at the sky again.

"You probably think I was pretty naive, huh?" He put his hands out, lowering his head. "Asking someone who barely knew how to survive in the wastes... who'd never even been here, before, to take on _my_ responsibility." He shook his head briefly. "I guess I was. Still am, too. Even after everything."

She frowned at him. "Why are you telling me all this?" she asked, curiously. Up to this point, Garvey hadn't done much other than maintain a professional relationship with her. Hadn't... opened up and talked to her, very much. Even if his reluctance to bother her had been a source of contention at times.

She supposed he'd known it was another burden for her to shoulder. At the time, she'd been so focused on finding Shaun, on getting herself into the good graces of the Minutemen―after having adjusted to the world as it was, when she woke up from two hundred years of sleep, she realized the importance of having allies. Even a broken and scattered ally was better than none, and she hadn't met the Brotherhood until much later on.

Preston asked her take on the Minutemen. That meant setting up settlements, making the Hills a home for someone else. Retaking the Castle, setting up the base of operations there and leaving Ronnie Shaw keeping the place running. After that... she'd brought Garvey back to the Hills.

Why hadn't she left him at the Castle? He would probably be more useful there, guarding the old fort. Ruby mused on the thought while Garvey stared at his feet, silently.

Well, for _one,_ Ronnie was a good woman. Ruby expected stone would burn before she'd let the Castle go to pot. But the other reason―was the settlers he'd led across the Commonwealth from Quincy. Mama Murphy, Jun and Marcy, Sturges...

They _needed_ to see him doing better. They'd followed him even when the Minutemen started dying, and _still_ followed when he asked Ruby to go with them to Sanctuary Hills. It felt... wrong of her, to remove him from the place, when he'd fought just as hard as those folks had in trying to find a permanent home.

Sanctuary Hills was as much Garvey's home as it was theirs. As much as it was _her_ home, even if she hadn't felt that way to begin with. She looked over the Hills at the settlers tending the crops. It had been a long time coming, but she _was_ proud of the place. It really was starting to _feel_ like home, again.

"I guess... I just need to say thanks. For being different from most everyone else I've run across." He looked sad but thoughtful, as he spoke.

Ruby smiled at him, unsure what to say. "You've run across _other_ people who were frozen for two hundred years?" she asked, and kicked herself in the ass. _Dammit, Ruby, way to be rude._

Garvey sighed out, looking down. "You're much better at keeping it together than I've ever been."

"...I'm sorry, Preston," she said, trying to force herself to look apologetic. "You're being serious. I shouldn't have―"

"Listen... I know I put you in an almost _impossible_ position when I asked you to lead the Minutemen." Garvey's face grew somber. "I didn't have any right to ask you to take that on."

She stared at him without saying anything. Him having a right to ask her... had never crossed her mind, truth be told. She would have taken responsibility, even if he felt it wasn't appropriate. Nate always did say she was too bossy for her own good―

And at the time, after watching Nate die and knowing nothing would ever be the same... knowing that she had to find Shaun, had to do everything that she could to get him back―well, she'd definitely used the Minutemen to further her own goals.

The thought made her feel a little guilty. She wasn't the paragon that she'd played herself out to be, in the end.

"I still don't know why you said yes." Garvey glanced away from her, briefly. "It doesn't really matter. We've still got a long road ahead of us, but I don't doubt _you're_ the leader the Minutemen needed."

"Thank you, Preston," she said, simply.

"We make a good team, General. No doubt about that." He gestured at the Hills, as if it were proof.

Ruby smiled at him, gently. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here, holding down the fort. You've been _nothing_ but helpful, Preston."

"You... really are one of the good guys, you know," he said, returning the smile in a smaller, sadder dose. "Most people are just out for themselves. Even the 'good' ones."

Ruby wondered what he was thinking about. She might have lost her way, but she'd never once doubted that he was a 'good' guy. After losing Nate... finding a "good guy" in this messed-up world had been a light in the darkness. A way to restore her faith in humanity, which she'd sorely _needed._

She believed that there would _always_ be good people in the world. Even if she'd never been around, someone would have stood up and taken over the responsibility of the Minutemen―or fought back against the Institute, like she was. People would avail themselves of the necessity.

Meeting Garvey had made her feel downright optimistic about her future. That someone was willing to put such faith in her, without anything to earn it beyond her initial good deed... Nick, Piper, Hancock, Danse... hell, even MacCready had been willing to put aside his son, just to come with her.

All for a promise and a show. A show that they could still make a difference in such a shitty world. That show sold out when she finally got into the Institute―

"Well," she said, lacing her hands together behind her back and stretching her fingers. "I highly doubt anyone would survive if they weren't a little selfish. We all have problems. Who can say what's more important than that?"

"But you're different," Garvey said, pressing the matter. "You really... _care_ about people. Even when it isn't convenient or safe."

Ruby snorted to herself. _That_ was the truth, she knew. Had more scars than she cared to admit, thinking about how often she'd run into a problem and fixed it―usually the _hard_ way. She turned her attention back to Garvey. He looked like he had so much on his mind it was physically weighing down his shoulders, slumping in his Minuteman outfit.

"I just wanted you to know that... well... that it matters. That you're making a difference." He sighed. "I've been thinking a lot. About the Minutemen, what they meant to me."

Her mind sharpened, remembering what he'd told her about the Minutemen―about the corruption in the ranks, about the disappointment he'd felt when the truth was revealed. The General at the time had done his best to keep it under wraps, but...

"...Everything I believed in turned out to be a lie." Garvey blinked and looked away from her, the emotion draining from his face.

She understood. She'd had the same feeling when she came back through the teleporter. When everything had been revealed... and everything she'd wanted was _gone._ It was enough to reduce _her_ to a mess. She couldn't imagine what Preston had gone through, himself―the grief at knowing that _everything_ was lost―

Ruby shook her head. "I'm sorry that what happened, did, Preston. But you... did your best. You―"

"No," he said, dully. His musket dipped and lowered to the ground, the barrel brushing against the earth. "I failed everyone who ever relied on me. I led them to Concord and we had no hope of getting out alive."

"Oh..." Ruby sighed, lifting a hand and pausing before she touched him. Wasn't sure if that would be okay, really. Preston was always so closed off, when they spoke...

"The thing is... it was actually okay with me. I was ready to die. It was what I felt I deserved. It was what I _wanted."_

She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, then. "You'd lost hope," she said, gently.

"There were still people counting on me," he continued, without looking at her. "That's the only reason I kept going." He glanced at her hand on his shoulder, and lifted his musket from the dirt. "But... you saved my life. You made me want to keep living again." Garvey made eye contact, then, and smiled a little. "...I guess that sounds pretty sappy."

"Preston." One corner of her mouth hiked up a little, curling into a return smile. "You're still here. That's more important than being _sappy._ I'm glad to have saved you, Preston."

"If we hadn't met..." He shifted his weight again and raised the musket with both hands.

"I don't think either of us would be here, if we hadn't met," Ruby said, firmly. She patted his shoulder once, and dropped her hand to her side. "And... I know it isn't easy to admit..."

"It feels better finally getting to say it out loud," he admitted. "Thanks for listening, Ruby."

She breathed out, the tension finally breaking. "Anytime, Preston."

The awkward silence that followed was especially so, until Ruby shrugged. "Well, this place isn't going to clean itself up," she muttered, trying to think of what to say.

Garvey chuckled. "World's not going to end _again,_ ma'am."

"It might," she growled, squinting at the trash littering the street. _"Yet."_

* * *

Hancock woke up on the second floor of a house, his head reeling from the excitement and chems and God-knows-how-many rounds of booze. He was slouched in an old pink chair, angled so he could stare out over the settlement from the west side, with an empty bottle in one hand and a cigarette butt in the other. Judging by the amount of empty inhalers and other trash littering the floor, he'd had a damn good night.

He sat up a little straighter, felt his back pop back into place, and dropped the bottle to the floor. It landed with a clinking noise, which was really fucking loud in the quiet of the morning-after―

Someone cleared their throat nearby and he jerked his head up. Tilted his tricorn back on his head and blinked the night's haze from his eyes. Ruby was sitting in another beat-up looking chair, directly to his right, with her knees hooked over one arm. She didn't look at him, just held out a dingy coffee cup filled with something hot.

He leaned forward, grabbed the cup, and chuckled. "Last time I partied _that_ hard..." he mused, pitching the cigarette butt out the opening in the wall.

"You woke up wearing nothing but a party hat," Ruby said, flipping idly through a magazine. "Have to say you didn't do it justice, either."

He spit out the "coffee" and stood up quickly, tossing the contents of the cup out of the house. Grabbed at his belt to dab up what he'd spilled on his lap in surprise, but found it missing―

He remembered waking up with the hat on, and it wasn't on his head either. Back then, he'd not cared if he pissed her off, but―"Christ, but _that_ was mean," he told her, glancing around the room for the missing flag he'd had since he'd gotten the suit. "Who pissed in your Sugar Bombs?"

"Every shot is under the belt, right now," she answered, and her hand moved to point at the ceiling fan above them.

He looked up and laughed. Couldn't help it, the damn thing had been tied to the fan. _Musta been a really fucking good night!_

After retrieving his belt and settling himself back in the chair, he stared at Ruby. She was sitting all casual-like, reading The Unstoppables, her legs crossed over the chair arm. Didn't say another word. She lifted one hand and scratched her head, staring intently at the comic.

"Alright, I'll bite. The hell I do, this time?" he said, scratching at his chin.

"What do you mean?" she asked, still not looking up at him.

 _Fuck._ This bullshit between them was wearing thin, even if he liked the woman. Musta done _something_ to make her mad, but couldn't say what it was―unless he'd done something real stupid the night before.

Probably would've remembered that, though. Sister always stuck out in his mind, even when he'd been high as a kite or swimming in a sea of scotch. Or crotch. _That goddamned party hat, again._

"This feels like a _trap,"_ he muttered lowly, but his mood was improved by the memory.

Ruby made a thoughtful noise. After a moment she flipped the comic shut with one hand and rubbed her eyes, turning herself in the chair. "You game to go out?" she asked, staring at him.

"Stomping the 'Wealth with you? Yeah, sister," he said, one corner of his mouth curling up. She was baiting him, messing with his head. Shit, she'd learned new tricks since he'd talked to her last.

"C'mon, _Don Juan,"_ she said, waving at him as she walked out of the room.

Ruby tossed the comic to an end table, stood, and stretched out her arms above her head. Hell, she was definitely playing with him now. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.

But that was just how it was gonna be. Hancock rubbed his face and followed, wondering what fresh hell he was gonna go through _today._


	22. Superhero

Note: Took a while to coordinate my dialogue. I'm currently very active in a RP group on Facebook, so...

Hancock _continues_ to give me hell. (minor edits)

* * *

A plinking noise sounded. She heard it through the gunfire being laid down by raiders at Haymarket Mall, because she felt something hit her in the ass―Ruby's eyes followed the bottle cap as it hit the ground, widening in annoyance.

"Goddammit, John, _quit!"_ she hissed, glancing back at him as they took cover behind the corner of a building.

Hancock threw his hands up, holding his shotgun at the sky, and stared back at her with those blank black eyes of his. She pressed her lips together and glared at him as hard as she could. His mouth twitched, curling up to the side. Neither one of them said a word more, staring each other down.

Ruby directed her attention back to the raiders, aiming her laser rifle at the remaining enemies. Knew better than to let herself get distracted―

She _might_ have laughed. The whole of this was absurd. John had been tossing caps at her for the past hour, maybe even longer; she hadn't noticed it until they'd walked past Taffington Boathouse and she caught him out of the corner of her eye.

Ignored it at first. She assumed he was bored and looking for a way to keep himself occupied in a mostly uneventful trip through the Commonwealth. But he hadn't stopped, even in the middle of a combat situation.

Hell if she knew _why_ he was throwing caps at her, now. Maybe he was in a good mood. She didn't mind _that._ John being in a good mood usually meant he'd been taking his "medicine". And it should have done them some good, if he wasn't sober.

But she doubted it. John always was ten times more aggravating when he was sober.

Ruby groaned internally, lining up a shot on a raider who was stupid enough to poke his head out of cover. Maybe he was right. Maybe she _couldn't_ handle him sober. When they'd met, both of them were in need of hope, in need of someone to show them the way. _She'd_ gotten better. John... just seemed to get worse.

Just kept being John. Ruby wasn't sure why they'd gotten along to _begin_ with. Something needed aired to resolve the situation, but―damned if she could tell what that might be, or if she _could_ resolve it.

Her teeth were grinding against each other by the time the raiders were dead. Another bottle cap bounced on her hip, striking off to the side. She didn't even look, but jerked open the doors and strode into the building angrily.

The brightness of the fire burning in the lobby caught her off guard, causing her confusion. The momentary distraction made her forget that there were probably raiders inside the place―she'd moved backward, her shoulder hitting something solid but soft, as she fought to see through the brightness.

Hancock's shotgun came up alongside her ear. She jerked away just as he fired on a raider hiding behind the brightness, reeling from the closeness of the shot―her ears rang from the report, as she stumbled to the side. Another raider came flying out of the fire-blinded room, wielding a pool cue.

The fight was over with almost as soon as it began, and Ruby gathered her senses about her―more raiders on the second floor landing, didn't have time to react, just fired into the building and ducked to the left for cover.

Another bottle cap bounced off her ass, clinking against the tile as it flew off into the darkness.

 _Goddammit!_

* * *

The roof access led to an open area that had once been beautiful. Ruby could imagine; the fountain spewing water, the ground covered by blossoming flowers and lush grass, the decorative rail stretching across the edge for safety. Benches here and there, the view of the area about them... it was nearly serene, in her mind's eye, if not for the distant sound of gunshots and the overpass so near to the place.

It was once a sanctuary. She stared at the cars that had fallen onto the garden. Hancock wandered about behind her, muttering something that she didn't pay attention to―

For a brief moment, her mind pushed her back to the past. She could imagine the cars as they sped by on the overpass above, zooming sounds and faint honks of drivers who'd they felt they'd been wronged. The people of Haymarket would come here, sit themselves in the middle of the Boston area, and stare at the Mass Fusion building's logo. Would pretend that they were anywhere but in the middle of the sprawling urban development.

Maybe it was silly of her, but she felt the twinge of loss for what might have been. The world hadn't been able to survive what humanity'd brought to the table. Everything she'd known... everything she was trying to bring back to the wastes, was what caused _this._

What Elder Maxson had lectured about, when she faced him in order to spare Danse. Maxson _was_ right, that science had led the world into an abyss. But maybe... no, even in the right hands she expected that science would outpace itself, once more.

The scene in her mind dissolved into the reality of the wastes, too quickly. Ruby sighed. She'd tried not to hold onto that memory of what was. It only caused pain, only reminded her that she had no right to go about changing this place.

Changing the Commonwealth into what she'd grown up with, trying to revert it to something that was impossible... was almost as bad as what _had_ happened.

Lately, with everything going on, she'd been pushing for that. To change the world around her, make it reflect what she remembered, to make it "better"―but was it better? The dangers of the world were only a step away, and they overpowered the fantasy better than any novel or movie might have.

Having Hancock behind her reinforced that thought. His existence as Hancock had been dedicated to making things "better". In order to do so, he'd become the chem-using ghoul that he was.

She'd thought of him as both the monster and the savior. Maybe that estimation was unnecessary, or downright mean. But it seemed accurate, to her. Hancock was acutely aware of the problems of living in the Commonwealth. He'd consistently reminded her that the real danger here was people. Including _himself._

Was why she'd wanted him around, back then. Having him at her back kept her from screwing things up in the wastes, kept her from making stupid decisions about the bastards in the wastes. Even though he'd been fairly laid back, he wasn't afraid to let her know when something would mess with the status quo. Wasn't afraid to criticize her choices and make her think.

MacCready might have her back, no matter what, but... she needed the simple intuition that Hancock brought to the table. Danse bullied her into action on occasion―she rolled her eyes. Like a real brother might, and probably just as annoying. She liked that he wasn't afraid to speak his mind, but she disliked his attitude.

 _Hancock_ would ask a question and throw her whole world into chaos. Then he'd act innocent, ignoring that he'd asked at all, and she'd let him get away with that because...

It was infuriating. Exciting. Challenging, and provoking, and... _highly_ attractive.

She glanced back at him. He was looking out over the distance, black eyes oblivious to her, looking thoughtful.

Maybe, if things had been different between them, she'd―

Ruby shook her head. She doubted that would have ever been an option. Wasn't because he was a ghoul, or something inane like that―she'd always supported that people were people, and their actions and words meant more than physical limits or appearance. A cornerstone of being the prosecutor she wanted to become was knowing that there was always a weak spot. Always something else to exploit.

She and Hancock... just couldn't get _along,_ she felt. She'd been so preoccupied with her own problems, and―well, Hancock had tried to keep things lighthearted, picking at Danse even when he was trying to make it better. His contribution to her breakdown had been an attempt to soothe her emotions with wholehearted support―like MacCready might―but the minute that heart had been scorned by her insult he'd left.

After that... he'd tried a Danse tactic. Bullied her about telling MacCready the truth, sprinkled in with a handful of his own goals. Went back to pretending he wasn't bothered after it was obvious she'd come to terms with MacCready, joking with her and trying to deny anything had happened.

She'd reacted very badly to that. With the attacks going on, she'd been easily agitated. Danse had made her uncomfortable―she still couldn't say precisely why she'd elbowed MacCready off of her―and Hancock's childish tantrum and saying he'd leave again only made her lose her temper.

Ruby sighed, rubbing her face. It was bad timing. Hancock was smart enough to try his hand at various schemes, but he was still John. And John... he'd never known what to do with himself, according to himself.

Maybe he wanted to be sober because of that. To remember who he was, and why he'd run away from it all. To confront it? He was... trying to better himself?

Why, though. Why did Hancock feel the need to clean himself up? He'd been unabashed about his chem use, before. She'd never said a word about him flying high, so long as he didn't make trouble. And he hadn't.

Until she did that Jet on the pier. Until she said she didn't want any chems. That was when it went to hell, and when he'd stopped using.

She stared at the distance. It... made sense, in a way. But, God, she really hoped he wasn't trying to change himself because―that would just be the end-all of her patience with him, and she didn't think she could handle it any better than the _hedge_ incident.

Ruby turned to look at him, lips parting in an unspoken word. John's eyes swiveled in their sockets, immediately on her. "John," she asked, softly.

"Yeah, sister?" he asked, curiouslly. He shifted his weight and faced her.

"I..." she began, but something caught her eye. Movement at the edge of the roof. Ruby immediately brought up her rifle and set her feet, narrowing her eyes. John backed up a step and got into position, aiming alongside her.

Well, she'd never had to worry about his ability to fight. Hancock knew what he was doing, there. She pushed the smile off of her face and breathed out, watching the broken railing.

A Deathclaw clawed it's way onto the roof, the arrival on solid footing accompanied by her fervent swearing. Why did she seem to find these things at the worst possible times? Her inner voice joked that it seemed appropriate to find a physical threat as dangerous as the emotional one she was expecting with Hancock―

The Deathclaw roared, throwing out its claws. Spittle flew from it's mouth, sparkling drops of saliva catching the sun. The glistening whiteness of its skin startled her, under the bright light. An albino―a rarity even in the wastes―but ten times more frightening than the regular variety. This monster couldn't hide like the others might―it bounded in a serpentine across the debris toward them as Hancock made a pissy remark, unloading his shotgun into it.

She couldn't react, right away. Frozen in fear, she stood with her rifle up and her fingers still on the trigger as the Deathclaw raised it's arm up and brought it down on the ghoul.

She was remembering―the Gullet. Getting slammed onto the ground had been terrifying. The pain that she'd felt, back then, came rippling over her body as she watched Hancock facing down the thing. Remembered the cracking of her ribs―the ache of her arm when it snapped like a twig under the thing's grip―being sucked down into the Gullet, going under the water, and panicking because she couldn't _breathe―_

Her feet started to move before she realized it, throwing out a hand to shove Hancock away from the assault. She jammed her rifle under the chin of the albino and fired repeatedly, gritting her teeth in anger and fear―

Her ears started to ring, again. The sudden cacophony of the previously quiet place cut through her mind like a saw, her eyes filled with the brilliance of her rifle's shots, watching it's powerful muscles moving under pale hide. Blood spattered over the ground and her suit, hot like acid and stinging her.

The Deathclaw swept out an arm, knocking her backward and over the ground with speed. The front of her suit tore, then the skin underneath, and her back hit something hard. She didn't stop moving, the rebound off the derelict car slamming her head into the frame―

* * *

Christ, but if _that_ wasn't a pain and a half. Hancock settled himself against the closed door, one knee up and the other on the ground as he lit a cigarette and tilted his tricorn back on his head.

Ruby laid on the ruined carpet of the room, in front of him. He'd gotten the bleeding to stop. After the Deathclaw tossed her into the car like a ragdoll, after he'd managed to put enough shells into the bastard's head, and after he'd moved her to the relatively safer side room.

The damage was worse than he'd thought. He only had some sewing skills, to do anything about it. Stimpak or two cleared up the bleeding in a few minutes, but she had some nasty-looking gouges in both her Vault _and_ her birthday suit.

He breathed out, letting the smoke curl up around his face. If it weren't for her shriek of rage behind him, he would've lost his balance when she pushed him back. Lucky for her, he always was graceful on his feet.

Hancock smiled, painfully, rubbing his shoulder through the coat. Deathclaw were damn tough beasts. Not as tough as him, but tough enough to make the scars worth having. It was one less out there, he wouldn't complain. Made him feel good, no matter what the bastard he'd taken down.

Ruby stirred on the floor, moving one arm over her stomach and hissing in pain as she agitated the wounds. "Take it easy, sister," he muttered, through the cigarette.

"What the hell happened," she moaned, putting her arm back on the floor. Laid there without moving, her eyes locked on the ceiling.

"Well," he said, brushing a piece of dirt from his leg and adjusting himself against the door, "won the fight."

Ruby groaned, then brought her hand up and covered her face. _"Hurts,"_ she mumbled.

"Got yourself a little wasteland surgery," he told her, putting out his cigarette.

"Come help me sit up, John," she said, sounding weak.

"You sure about that?"

"...Yes," she said, but the pause made him wonder. He pushed himself up, moving across the floor in a few steps, and reached out a hand to her. Ruby grabbed it with both of hers, holding it tightly as she tried to pull herself up from the carpet.

A flash of a second later she fell back, loosing his hand and groaning. _"Dammit,"_ she complained, her eyes shut to everything, face in a grimace.

Hancock put one knee down beside her, resting an elbow on his leg and his chin in his hand. "I never saw someone so wanting for pain, sister," he said, staring at her. "You're one of a kind."

Ruby's mouth twitched into a pained smile. "I never asked you to put yourself in harm's way for me," she murmured, breathing shallowly.

"You martyr yourself like that, you're gonna end up dead," he said, lowering his gaze to her outfit. Nice view, but wished the situation was different. Ruby had a long scar on her side, could see through the shredded fabric. He tilted his head, moving his hand down to cover the spot.

She jerked at his touch, smacking his hand roughly. "The hell are you doing?" she snapped, reeling from the sudden motion.

"Doubt you want me to see the goods, sister," he chuckled.

Ruby lowered her hand and looked up at him, emotions running across her face with such rapid speed he could barely catch them all. "And me without a party hat," she said, faintly, her mouth tugging up into a smile.

Hancock laughed, grinning at her. "You'd wear it better," he shot back.

"You know it," she said, weakly. "Are there any more stimpaks, John?"

He settled himself onto the floor beside her. "Nah, used the last here," he said. "Want me to run out for milk and cigarettes, too?"

"Would you come back?" she countered, her tone growing serious.

"Let you have that one," he muttered darkly, staring across the room. She knew his limits as much as he did. Made his heart flop dully in his chest, though. _Picking another fight._ And he couldn't take off, this time. Fuck, she picked her battles like a _pro._

"If things were different―" Ruby started, but coughed and groaned loudly.

"They _ain't,_ sister," he said, pointedly. "I only fight the bastards out there. Won't fight you, too."

"Are..." she sighed, and he could feel her eyes digging into the side of his head. "Are you sober, John?"

"Kicking a dead Brahmin, again," he answered, trying to control his irritation.

"You can't run away," she stated, flatly. "I just got my ass handed to me. Answer the damn _question,_ John."

She had him on a real short rope. She knew it, too. Hancock breathed out through what was left of his nose. Tried to collect his thoughts. Ought to pop a few Mentats, make it easier, but―he chuckled to himself. He'd never felt like he could keep himself on the straight and narrow for so long, and now some untapped reserve had been found.

"Guess the barrel's got so many holes, makes it easier to climb out," he said, shrugging one shoulder.

"You _are_ trying to do better," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

Hancock looked back at her and held his tongue between his teeth for a moment. "You asked how many chems it took, to forget it all."

She frowned, then stared up at the ceiling. "I did?"

"When we went to get Big Iron."

Ruby nodded, then, moving her eyes back to him and frowning in concentration. "...And you said..." she sighed. "You said you can't run away."

"Yeah," he said. The room got very quiet. "John didn't go anywhere. Put on the cape to help people. Not to forget him."

"Always knew superheroes would rather be ordinary," she put in, while he tried to figure out what to say. "Never thought I'd get to meet one, myself."

Hancock pulled out another cigarette and lit it, raising his knee to lean an elbow on. "Being around you, I remember better." He breathed out, watching the smoke with clipped eyes.

"Which makes you see how bad things were." Ruby grunted, putting her hand on the carpet and pushing a little. "And... _compare_ it?"

" _'Bumfuck',"_ he said, in a low voice.

"You know I didn't mean―" she answered, grabbing his coat and pushing and pulling herself up to a sit. "I did apologize."

"You're out here making civilization from the ground up with nothing going for you but a silver tongue and lucky breaks," he told her, keeping his eyes on the far wall.

"Don't compare your good deeds to what _I've_ done," she said, sorely. "I _used_ people to get what I wanted, and threw a damn hissy fit when I didn't get it."

John chuckled. "So, it's okay when _you_ say it?" he muttered.

"No one is going to let you throw out accusations without defending themselves." She moved closer to him, hissing in pain. Put her legs out in front of her, sitting beside him and staring at the ruined wall ahead of them. One hand went to her stomach and her ruined suit, and the other snaked around his side, grabbing his shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed, wondering what she was doing. Ruby laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, heaving a sigh.

Shit. His hand twitched, wanting to go around in turn, but she pinned it to his side. He settled for grabbing her hand on his shoulder with three fingers, holding the cigarette so that it wouldn't burn her.

"John, you know―"

"Wish you wouldn't call me that," he grumbled, looking away from her.

"You know more about this world than I ever will. You might have left Diamond City for a worse place, but you turned around and you made that place _better."_ Ruby swallowed, he could feel her neck muscles moving. "I came out of time itself, without being prepared for what I'd find, and I flopped on the shore like a fish out of water. You _lived_ this, you stood up, you said you _wouldn't_ take it. I... wanted my son back. It's not the same."

He moved his hand to tap the cigarette and felt her fingers tighten on his shoulder. "You turned yourself into something you didn't have to be, to make things right. I just kept being Ruby. You really _are_ a goddamn superhero, John."

The way she said it... made his heart swell. She admired him. That heart she asked for, she wanted it but she couldn't _handle_ it. Like he was too much for her to have. Like she was borrowing his power to make hers work.

He smiled, pitched the cigarette, and rubbed her hair. "Alright, sister," he said, moving to stand. "I'll take it."

"Help me up," she groaned, trying to put weight on her arm. "Let's hit up Goodneighbor, then get out of here."

"More innocents to save?"

"Long as I don't have to be Jangles the moon monkey," she replied, dryly.

"You do get paid with shit," he said, amused.

Ruby groaned. _"Damn_ you, Hancock."


	23. The Heart Wants

Note: This was delayed for no good reason. Expect at least one more chapter before the end. I want to wrap this up for other projects. (Also hate the opening but the ending turned out okay.) (minor edits)

* * *

The final attempt. She'd been waiting for the opportunity to get into the Institute for ages now, and it was all coming to a head.

"...Hey, Ruby?"

The people of the Hills were gathered around the workshop area, some sitting, some standing; the companions she'd dragged from the corners of the wasteland were in attendance. Even Cait, who was obviously bored out of her mind and playing a knife across her fingers to alleviate the condition, had come to the meeting.

"Ruby," MacCready repeated.

Ruby glanced at them, her eyes going around the assembled people, before turning to MacCready. She held up one finger, not saying a word to him, before returning to her conversation with Sturges. "So what you're saying," she asked the mechanic, "is that we're going to have to take the back way in and it's chock full of radiation?"

"Well, yeah," Sturges said, his hands on his hips. "It's the underwater access. Ain't much else we can do, General."

She rubbed her face and blinked, glancing up at Danse. "Guess that means power armor," she said. "I'll have to repair the T-60."

Danse nodded, staring down at the rest of the group. "Agreed," he said. "Power armor may be uncomfortable, but it's unnecessary to expose yourself to any more radiation. You remember the Glowing Sea, Ruiz."

She made a face. "Yeah, but..."

"You won't make a very pretty ghoul," Hancock put in, sitting on the edge of the roof above them. "Listen to Big Iron. He knows the drill."

Ruby glanced up at the ghoul, then sighed and scratched her forehead. Even if she hated wearing the suit, it really was better not to risk it. The last time...

She grimaced. That fight with Danse had made her forget the danger of the Glowing Sea. Once she'd stormed off, walking back through the Sea on her lonesome, she'd realized how dumb that was. And by the time she'd scraped herself across the wasteland floor back to the Hills, she'd used every last bit of Rad-Away she owned. Spent the next few days sicker than a dog anytime she'd moved; not to mention the nauseating Vertibird ride up to the Prydwen and the added gut-churning betrayal of Maxson's orders...

"Ruby," MacCready hissed again, trying to catch her attention.

Ruby nodded at Sturges, then turned to face MacCready. "Yeah," she asked, shooting him a tired look.

"I still want to come with you," he said, stubbornly. "It'd be better if I was there to watch your back."

A collection of groans from around the "War Cabinet" sounded, as Ruby shut her eyes and breathed out. Again―she fought the urge to snap. The third time he'd asked, so far. She'd brushed off the first two times, but...

"Didn't you get the message the first time?" Hancock called down, clearly amused at the scenario. "C'mon, brother. You know why you aren't going."

"I didn't ask _y―"_ MacCready said, looking up at the ghoul from underneath his hat. He tilted his hat back on his head gave Hancock an annoyed look.

"Don't be dumb," Piper put in, suddenly. Ruby looked up at the woman, surprised that she was interjecting. She'd been excited to hear the news of the... relationship progress, but she'd not been very pushy about details. That was surprising in of itself, given Piper's proclivity for investigating things.

Ruby knew that she'd ignored the woman too often, lately. Felt bad for that, had promised her an exclusive if she survived the assault on the Institute. "Piper?" she asked, her eyebrows drawn together.

Piper stared at her for a moment with a patient smile on her face, then looked to MacCready. "Look, you got your reasons for wanting to go. I won't say they aren't _good_ reasons, but you..." she looked away, choking up a little. "You just can't risk it, okay? There's more than your feelings at stake here, MacCready."

"I want to help, not sit around on my as―butt, waiting for something to happen!" the ex-Gunner sniped. "I'm the best damn shot in this whole outfit, and you know it. Why _shouldn't_ I go?"

"Maybe the best," Cait shot back, her tone annoyed, "but this lot ain't getting a ride from the boss, now are we?"

 _"Cait!"_ Ruby sputtered. If anyone would be brutally honest―and profane, but that was really one of Cait's charms―she would always bet on the surly woman. Ruby's face flushed with blood, though. Hearing it said aloud made it so much more...

"The nature of your relationship is of concern to the outcome of our mission," Danse said, sounding uncomfortable. "You know this. Do not rush to waste your life."

Ruby glanced at Danse, swiftly. His face showed no trace of the discomfort, a veneer that held all his stubborn nature in one expression. She fought the urge to laugh at that, trying to collect herself to deal with MacCready.

Before she could say anything, Hancock spoke up. "No matter what's going on around here, you got your kid. No one's letting that slide, brother."

MacCready open his mouth to speak, but Hancock interrupted him. "Can't have you acting stupid when shit's going down," he added, staring at the man with an indecipherable expression on his face. "Not to mention your knack for making things worse."

MacCready immediately protested against the point, but―and Ruby was even more surprised at this―Preston stepped forward, put a hand on MacCready's shoulder, and said something to him in a low voice. Ruby didn't catch all of the words, but she gathered that Preston was telling MacCready to leave this part to the people who had earned their chance to fight.

"You have helped," Preston said, quietly. "You've kept us on our toes, and been a backbone for the General. Everyone who goes against the Institute, goes because they want to protect the people of the Commonwealth. You were able to help that happen. Thank you, MacCready."

MacCready stood there, deathly still, his face turning red. He opened and shut his mouth once, shot an angry look at Ruby, then turned on one heel and walked away. His grumbling could be heard for a moment longer, before Ruby rubbed her eye and turned back to the group. "Okay..."

"Let him go," Cait said, staring after him. "When the rest of us are pushin' daisies, he'll sing a different tune."

Ruby stared at the Irish woman for a time, letting exhaustion take over her face. _Might as well soldier through it,_ she told herself. "Cait, you're on guard duty outside the Hills."

Cait looked up, dropping the knife into her palm and nodding. "I'll mind the babies," she said, motioning toward the direction that MacCready had gone. "Want me to watch the big one, too?"

Ruby ignored her jab and moved onto the next issue. "Hancock?" She looked up at the bottom of his boots, questioningly.

"I'm on the road," he said, dismissively. "Watching for stragglers with the girl scout."

Piper scoffed at him. "Yeah, Blue, we'll be out there waiting for your leftovers," she put in, crossing her arms and looking annoyed.

"Alright." Ruby looked around for a moment. "Danse, you'll be with me down the rabbit hole. Preston, you're squaring up the Minutemen for when we get to the teleporter, yeah?"

"The Minutemen will relay in the moment you get the teleporter under our control. Sturges should be able to handle most of it, from there." Preston nodded to the mechanic.

"Just find me a terminal and I'll be on it," Sturges confirmed, nodding.

"Nick and Dogmeat will be..." Ruby looked around. "Where is Nick?"

"Diamond City," Piper answered. "Said something about a case. I'll take Dogmeat with me, if that's alright."

"It's fine," Ruby said, dismissively. Was a bit disappointed the detective wasn't around, but, well, if he had been there, he'd have shut down MacCready swiftly after the attempt to wheedle an in. She should have realized he was missing―her mind was all over the place trying to get this operation started―

"Preston," she said, looking to him. "you've already debriefed everyone who'll be joining us inside, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling gently. "We're ready and waiting. You should..." His eyes trailed off into the Hills, toward the south. "Handle the household before giving the order."

"Yeah, I know. We'll leave as soon as I can get my armor in good condition, okay? Until then, everyone..." She shook her head. "Get ready. I'll be back as soon as I can." She moved behind the house, Danse following her.

"Do you require my assistance, Ruiz?" he asked gently, once the two were out of earshot of the group.

"You'll only make it worse," she muttered, looking around for MacCready. Started walking toward the bridge, a sour look coming over her face.

"Yes," Danse replied, but he chuckled. "MacCready _will_ understand, if you allow me to speak to him. I can promise you that."

Ruby stopped and looked up at the ex-soldier. "Well, whatever, fine," she said, aggravated. "Go stir up shit."

Danse smiled, nodded to her and stomped off. Ruby rolled her eyes at his back and walked back toward the armor station, cataloging what needed repaired.

 _Good luck,_ she thought.

* * *

He found the ex-Gunner hiding under the lee of the bridge, a spot that kept him out of the public eye but not completely undetectable. Danse approached the man, walking along the edge of the water. "MacCready," he said, nodding at him. The smile he'd given Ruiz was gone, replaced by a serious expression.

"What the hell do _you_ want?" MacCready spat back, his hat down over his eyes and arms crossed as he leaned onto a support pole for the bridge.

"You know exactly why I came to talk to you," Danse replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "And if you wish me to toss you into the creek again, I will oblige." He gave the man a pointed look.

"Whatever," MacCready said, irately looking away from him. "Why do you care?"

"Respecting Ruiz's wishes is far more important than whatever goal you think you are achieving by fighting her decision," Danse stated, looking down at him. "Arguing with her is not going to win the battle against the Institute, MacCready. You confessed that your son was not where you'd implied and that has caused this to happen. For once, can you not understand that your behavior reflects on―"

"I don't give a f―no. I don't give a fuck, _tin can,"_ MacCready's said. He had given up censoring himself. Danse's eyebrows shot up. _"I_ should be there with her. Not _you. I―"_

"You think I won't protect her?" Danse retorted, speaking over him. "You are a fool, MacCready, but you are not that _stupid._ Do not act in such a way to belie your intelligence."

"You don't know how I feel," MacCready said, scoffing. "You _can't_ feel. You're just―you were made to fuck with people. Everything _you_ do―"

"MacCready, you have yet to give me a reason to _truly_ harm you," Danse boomed, glaring at him. "We have discussed my nature. I am content with it; Ruby is content with it. Stop using this as a means to insult me."

"I don't have to accept you, just because _she_ does!" the man snarled, dropping his hands to his side and clenching them into fists.

"Well, _I_ do," Danse shot back. "I was expressly ask to tolerate your existence, because she felt that it was in your best interests for me _to_ do so."

MacCready made an irritated noise. "We can't all be ass-kissers, now can we," he said, snippily.

"If you feel my tempered behavior toward you is an attempt mollify Ruiz, then you are sorely―"

"It's all for show!" MacCready moved forward, stepping up and jabbing Danse with a finger. "You've done nothing but try to get in her good graces―sucking up and making yourself look like a damn saint!"

"You don't seem to _understand,_ MacCready." Danse grabbed his collar, gripping him firmly as he pulled him to his face. "I don't have the confidence you have, that I will be accepted without question. _I am not human, MacCready!_ I must prove myself _every single time,_ so that I may continue to exist! Can you _comprehend_ how _thin_ that line is? How quickly _everything_ could come to a halt?! _Can you?"_

MacCready winced under the grip and Danse released him. "If you persist to take for granted your privilege in being part of this group, you _will_ find yourself in a more dire situation," he stated, very nearly furious. "I cannot help you, if you do not attempt to understand that Ruiz is looking out for you. She cares that much, that she wants you _alive_ to raise _your_ son. You'd do best to _listen_ to her."

"You―you don't know what it's like―" MacCready adjusted his collar, staring daggers at him. "You can't feel―you were programmed to act human, but you don't know how to be anything but an asshole Brotherhood soldier! You don't get―"

"That may be the case," Danse interrupted, his voice becoming deadly quiet. "But I would rather be anything but a grown man throwing childish tantrums because he hasn't gotten his way. The whole of this situation is ridiculous, MacCready. You are not a man, _either,_ if you cannot act in a way to prove otherwise."

"You don't get it," he muttered, to himself.

"I may not understand how close to humanity I am actually am, but at least I try to embody something other than immaturity. You must trust that the rest of us are doing our best to stay positive, and your antics are causing Ruiz embarrassment and annoyance." Danse's hands clenched, the rubber of his gloves squeaking. "You are deliberately _hurting_ her, MacCready. I warned you."

MacCready's face turned a slight red shade, and he looked away. "Same as ever," he mumbled.

"We will take down the Institute. Ruiz is more combat-capable now, than she has ever been. That is thanks to you, MacCready. Do you recognize that she's appreciative?"

The man nodded, after a slight pause. "Yeah," he said, sullenly.

"When we return..." Danse straightened himself out. "I will leave. I will no longer be needed. The threat of the Institute is greater than others; I have confidence that Ruiz and the others― _including_ you―can handle the aftermath. Is _that_ satisfactory to you?"

MacCready turned his eyes onto Danse's, searching his face. "And if she _doesn't_ come back?" he asked, his voice low and slightly shaken.

"Then no one comes back. I will stand with Ruiz until the end. You _know_ this. _No one_ in this world has accepted me for everything that I am, not even my own. I will not betray Ruiz's trust." Danse stared at the top of MacCready's hat. "If you cannot trust that I will do everything in my power to bring her back―"

MacCready said something under his breath, and Danse narrowed his eyes at his tone. "I will _not_ allow her to come to grievous harm. You may think as you wish, but you are not joining us on this mission. You will go to your son, and you will thank _God_ that you have a chance to see him again. Do you understand me?"

MacCready only looked out over the water, his face a stony mask of indifference. Danse shook his head. "Maybe my words would come better from her, but you know this is the truth. I have never lied to you."

"No," MacCready said, quietly. "You haven't. But you don't have as much to _lose_ if she―"

"I did not get _my_ way. Is that what you want me to say? I _am_ in love with her." The ex-Gunner's face contorted in a nasty way, but Danse continued. "She does not love me as she loves _you._ I―" Danse cringed, to say it aloud. "I know how she truly feels, MacCready. I know that she feels I am her friend, the best of friends even, and I do know that she's put me through more agony than you can imagine. She sacrificed herself for my well-being―speaking out against Elder Maxson, in order to save my life―" Danse felt himself getting frustrated. "I do not know how much of my memory is _truth._ Ruiz has helped me to deal with that. And I know that what esteem I've garnered from Ruiz is _worth_ what I do to remain in her shadow!"

MacCready said nothing for a moment, staring at him. Danse could feel his heart racing under the chest piece of his armor, could feel his hands shaking even though he clenched his hands as tightly as possible. His lips were thin as he pressed them together, eyes open to a slit on the young man.

"Even if I will never have the sort of... relationship that you enjoy," Danse said, slowly, carefully, "I will do everything in my power to keep her safe. That _is_ a fact."

The ex-Gunner shrugged one shoulder, then, turning away from him and staring at the power lines in the west. "Fine," he said, quietly.

"You _will_ tell her goodbye," Danse started.

"Yeah, don't be dumb," MacCready sighed.

"And you will _not_ mention this conversation to her," he added.

"Secret's safe with me," MacCready told him.

"...I will return to the settlement and tell Ruiz that you are behaving much more amenable to her plans. I suggest you take a moment to compose yourself, then join us." Danse turned and started walking away. "We'll be waiting."

As the power armor began to clank, his legs propelling him away from the man and the bridge, Danse felt an odd sort of relief. His heart slowed to its normal rate, and he could feel the adrenaline disappearing. Still shook, slightly, when he raised his hands and ran them along the rubber seal of his power armor. But...

Danse chuckled under his breath, rubbing his chin and staring at the workshop area as he approached it. It was amazing he'd even been able to persuade the man. His last attempt to speak with MacCready was a disaster, compared to this.

"How bad is it?" Ruiz asked him, not looking up as she repaired her armor. Her mood was tetchy, and her words sharp.

"MacCready has come to understand the reason he cannot go, and has indicated he will show team spirit." Danse glanced over the armor, seeing her work. Ruiz had cleaned the rust from her arm plating, showing the dark metal underneath. She'd painted a Minuteman logo on the chest plate, and replaced the busted lamp in the helmet.

 _"Ow!"_ Ruiz said, jerking her hand back from the leg plating. "He did what!" she blurted out, staring up at Danse.

"He'll come to say his goodbyes before we leave," Danse continued, knowing she'd heard him.

Ruiz stared at him, her dark eyes searching his face as MacCready's had. After a time, she dropped the gazed and went back to repairing the leg plating. "Alright," she said, quietly.

Danse waited with her until MacCready did return to say goodbye, then stalked off into the Hills. He felt satisfied that he was able to manage the situation better than he ever had before.

Maybe Ruiz' acumen for speech was rubbing off on him. He smiled to himself, starting a patrol of the east side of the settlement. It would not be a bad outcome. He _had_ held his own against her, far more easily than before.

His mood dampened a little, however. He would still feel the same love for her. Airing the emotions made it easier for him to come to terms with what had happened; his loss was MacCready's gain, and officially letting go of what he'd hoped for had appeased his conscience. He would not expect any more fighting between himself and MacCready, if the man knew that he had nothing to fear. Danse had been successful in his effort to convince the man of that.

And though he had told MacCready he would leave after the Institute was gone, the chance of that happening was low. He had nowhere to go, and Ruiz would be upset if he said he should depart. The tactic was not a lie, nor was it a perfect truth. MacCready would just have to learn to hold his own against persuasion better―

The man was lucky he had Ruiz to look out for him. Danse turned himself away from the Hills and walked along the water, his brow settling into fine lines.

 _The heart wants what it wants,_ he told himself. _Even if it wants for something it cannot have._


	24. I'll Live

Note: Well, I counted chickens. Not the last chapter.

* * *

Ruby laid her hand on the leg plating and leaned her head into the power armor, closing her eyes and feeling the sickness in her stomach not abating. She knew it was nerves―couldn't do a damn thing about that. Danse's small talk went unnoticed as she tried to collect herself enough to finish the repair work.

He wandered off after a moment, probably to go patrol or something. Always was out walking about, on his own. She'd tried to encourage him to spend more time talking to the others, but he was still coming to terms with himself. One could only do so much, even with someone who―by all rights―had earned his place in the settlement.

Ruby felt the metal warming up under her forehead. She reminded herself to stop thinking about Danse, and start about the coming fight. She had no idea what to expect. She didn't even know what the Institute really _looked_ like. Once they got inside, would it―she paused, staring blankly at the dull metal of the leg plating. Would it be like the parts she _had_ seen? What sort of combat could she expect? Would the scientists fight, or would it be nothing but synths?

She couldn't believe it _was_ the time, now. To deal with _everything._ Time to go in and let loose on the monsters under the C.I.T. ruins, to get rid of it all. To remove Shaun...

Where would Shaun go, if she forced the people in the Institute out? If he even _wanted_ to leave. God, that... she hadn't actually thought about _that._ What was she going to do with him, after clearing out the synths? She shuddered. If she had to _kill_ him―

"You know he's in love with you?" MacCready said, all of a sudden. He'd moved up behind her, crouched down as close as he could get, and was rubbing his nose when she tilted her head in his direction.

"Who?" she asked, frowning. Her thoughts had been so dramatically interrupted...

"The tin can." MacCready didn't look pleased, his face drawn downward. "Said he's in love with you."

Ruby closed her eyes again, leaning more weight on the power armor. "Okay," she muttered. Right now, that was so far down the list of things to _worry_ about, she couldn't be bothered to react.

"How come you didn't pick him?" MacCready sounded downright mad, now.

Ruby pulled away from the power armor and stared at him, her eyebrows drawn together and frowning deeply. "How― _what?"_ She squinted at MacCready, confused.

"How come you didn't pick him," MacCready repeated. "You're taking him to the Institute. You left him follow you around the settlement all the time. Danse is your sidekick, not me. How come you picked me?"

Ruby looked at him, her face registering a series of bewildered and annoyed looks. "MacCready―" she started. She sat back on her heels and pulled herself up, looking down at him as he stood. "I told you. I want you. _Not_ Danse. The _last_ thing I need is―some bossy jerk with existential angst, pushing me to my limit and setting me off in the middle of important stuff."

"So why are you taking him to the Institute?" MacCready crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her.

"Because that jerk values my hide as much as _I_ do," Ruby groaned, rubbing her side where she'd been hit by the Deathclaw. Still hurt, a little. Hancock's wasteland surgery was lacking in finesse, but at least she'd _survived._ "I trust him to cover me in combat. And I know he'll do his damnedest to destroy synths. Danse has a _personal_ stake in this, MacCready. Neither you nor I have the right to take that away."

MacCready's angry expression faltered some, and he dropped his arms. "I don't like this," he muttered, looking away. "Don't want you to get hurt."

"R.J.," Ruby replied, her voice more confident than she felt in her heart. "If you went, and you died, then Duncan wouldn't have anyone left. You grew up that way. Would you wish that on him?" She watched his eyes drop to the ground. "I _will_ get hurt, but with Danse at my side―with the Minutemen behind me, with..."

Her voice started to wobble. She swallowed and composed herself before continuing. "...With someone to come _back to,"_ she went on. "You don't realize how important that is. Having someone to come back to―after―" she closed her eyes, feeling the emotion lumping in her throat.

"I know," he said, his own voice sounding very weakened.

"I came into this world with no one left." Ruby opened her eyes and looked at him, letting her frustration and sadness show. "Everything was gone. I'd lost Nate. I'd lost Shaun. I gained... so much more, looking for him, and then I lost him again. You..." She stifled a sob, putting a hand to her mouth. "You would be leaving Duncan like that, too―"

MacCready grabbed her, pulling her into a hug. He crushed her to his chest, leaning his head down on her shoulder and rubbing his nose into her Vault suit. Ruby moved her arms around him and sighed, pushing her head into his shoulder and letting the sob she'd been fighting show.

"I love you," she mumbled, burying her face in his ratty coat. "You can't go, I won't let you."

"I love you, too," he replied, his breath against her neck hot. "I don't want you to go."

"Don't ever let Duncan go," she whimpered. "Don't ever―"

MacCready squeezed her tighter, shaking his head as he lifted it. "Never," he promised, his breathing coming in fast little puffs. "Never."

"I'll come back," she strained out, digging her fingers into his back. "I mean that. I will. I'll―"

"Ruby―"

They stood there for a moment, the silence drawing out and holding each other. Ruby could care less who got an eyeful of this show. MacCready never had, she thought. Her ears started to hurt with the pressure building up in her head. Needed to let it out, but...

"Can I kiss you goodbye?" he asked, his voice trembling, but teasing underneath.

"Am I still that hard to read?" she sputtered, still trying to contain her crying.

"Always," he breathed, but moved a hand up to her head, cupping her cheek and pulling her away from his shoulder. "But I'm learning."

Ruby choked back a distressed laugh, feeling the swell in her chest and trying not to lose herself right then and there in a spill of tears. "Learn _quicker,_ please," she stammered, looking up at him and putting on a difficult smile.

One corner of MacCready's mouth curled up and he leaned in, pulling her face into his for a kiss. Ruby sighed, grabbed the sides of his head, and kissed him, desperately. For all she knew, she really _wasn't_ coming back alive―

* * *

Down the rabbit hole. Ruby led the way through winding back-way tunnels, seeing the devastation to this part of the Institute. At a junction in the tunnels, she'd been forced to leave her power armor behind, which relieved her. It was so hard to move around in the armor―

Danse followed her, dutifully. He said nothing to her other than standard combat direction and his normal Brotherhood banter. It was _comforting_ to hear him triumphantly saying, "Ad Victoriam!" when they'd fought off so many synths and turrets. She regretted that Danse had turned out to be a synth; he was an excellent soldier and she would have stayed in the Brotherhood if not for―

Ruby shook the thought from her head and focused on the fighting. Didn't need to get distracted, now. It was too important.

She managed to keep herself from getting terribly wounded until they got into the Institute proper. Slid down the wall by the door, as they entered a more modern and clean-looking area, clutching at herself and wondering why she kept taking hits to the abdomen. Winced at herself, applying pressure to her stomach. One hand went to her chest, popping open a pouch on the leather strap, trying hard to ignore the seeping feeling as the blood oozed around her fingers. Not to mention the pain. Even the Deathclaw attack on the roof hadn't been _this_ painful.

"Ruiz!" Danse turned, kneeling down awkwardly in his power armor and lowering his rifle. "Are you―"

"I got it," she muttered, stabbing herself with the stimpak.

"You should stay behind me," he said, firmly. "My armor can provide cover, if you utilize it."

"I'm alright," she said, sorely, watching her side stop bleeding. "I just need to sit here for a moment."

"Ruiz," he said, again, but with more concern lacing his voice. She glanced up at him, saw his eyebrows drawn together. Her eyes dropped back to her hand and she peeled it away from her skin. The pain had gone away, but the feeling of the semi-coagulated blood sticking to her hand and seeing the sticky strings of blood made her a bit nauseous.

She leaned her head back against the wall, watching Danse's expression out of the corner of her eye. His jaw was moving―looked like he was grinding his teeth―and his eyebrows were still pulled together over dark eyes.

Danse really _did_ have a very handsome face, she thought, offhand. He was nice to look at. She supposed he was made that way, on purpose. Built to be perfect. The best soldier,the best replacement, the best spy... the anger inside her, building up against the Institute, against Shaun, against the bastards that put Danse into place, finally settled in her head. She was right to bring him here. He _needed_ this fight.

Ruby smiled at him, glad he was concerned. "I'll _live,_ Danse. Don't worry," she poked at him.

He dropped the worried look for one of perplexion. "Do not push yourself," he said, in a strange voice, pushing himself up from the floor and moving down the hallway a bit.

She breathed out, slowly, then grabbed her rifle and stood. _Thank God for stimpaks,_ she thought. She moved forward and lifted the rifle, nodding at Danse. "You ready to do this?" she asked, noticing the wavering nature of his face.

"I have trained for this moment my entire life," he said, his tone becoming dire toward the end. "If nothing else, I must prove that _isn't_ a lie."

Ruby nodded and hit the door release with a fist, as hard as she could.

* * *

The fight was hectic, even with the Minutemen providing support. Danse focused on what he'd been taught, taking out the enemy and providing suppressing fire for Ruiz as she swept through the entirety of the place. It was a whole different world inside the Institute―the pristine interior clashed with his memories of living in Rivet City, the ramshackle places he'd visited throughout the wastes, even the marvel that was the Prydwen.

For a moment, he wondered how his birth had been achieved. How he had been made, how he'd... He did not wish to dwell on such things. Danse turned and dealt with another synth, seeing Ruiz breathing hard and noting the sweat on her brow. She was bleeding along her hairline, blood seeping into her eye, and a laser burn through the knee of her suit was evident.

Minutemen streamed around her, calling out to each other and surrounding their General―Paladin General Ruby Ruiz, leader of the Minutemen and former aspirant to the Brotherhood of Steel―and though he was not satisfied that she'd given up her pursuit of a career with the Brotherhood, he knew she would do just as well with this group of dedicated protectors.

The main body of the enemy appeared to have been eradicated, shortly after the Minutemen swelled around their leader. Ruiz moved out from the impromptu shield of bodies, heading for a stairwell. Danse followed, his footsteps loudly echoing through the Institute. A hushed conversation between the Minutemen and Ruiz left them guarding the stairs as she hobbled upward.

She was limping up the stairs, one bloodied hand on the railing leaving a trail. Danse could hear an odd snapping noise as she put her injured leg down, hear her swear in a high-pitched voice. His hand shot out as she fell, grabbing her by the back of her collar. Ruiz made a horrible choking noise, her arms jerking forward as she grabbed at the stairs for purchase.

"I am sorry―" he said, lowering her gently.

She coughed, interrupting him, and shook her head. "It's fine," she said, her voice distant. She remained on the stairs for a long time, on her hands and knees, breathing slowly.

He wasn't sure of this... somewhat _apathetic_ attitude toward her own health, but it wouldn't be in their best interest to remain in this spot. Danse removed a stimpak from his storage compartment and swiftly jabbed her with it, startling her. She looked back at him, confused and alarmed. Danse tossed the injector, pulled her up onto her feet, and gestured to the floor above them.

"Let's go," he said. "I know you might not wish to face the outcome but I, for one, am keen to see this ended."

Ruiz's eyes moved over his, and she grabbed the railing again. Slowly, she nodded. He could see she was blinking back tears, even though her face was empty of everything else.

"Let's find that terminal," she said, blankly.

* * *

The trip up to the next floor was full of silence. Ruiz led him into a room similar to the rest, her footfalls stopping at the sight of an elderly man in a specialized bed. The man turned his head slowly to face her, looking tired as only the dying could.

Danse respectfully kept himself back, watching the interchange. Ruiz started to cry, turning her head away from the older man, putting a hand to her mouth, and trembling. "Why are you here, Mother?" the man asked.

This was Shaun. Danse turned his eyes from them, tilting his head down. This was not what she'd thought to find. This was not her infant son, nor was he the ten-year old she'd expected from Kellogg's memories. This was not even the adult that Danse had thought she'd referred to, in the past.

This was an aged man on the cusp of death itself, stubbornly holding onto life to see the goals of his twisted organization to fruition. It was no wonder that Ruiz had evinced as much pain as she had, when she first arrived in the Institute.

The ache he felt inside grew intense as Ruiz spoke to him, her sorrow plain as day. She begged of Shaun to help her help those who could be spared. Her words were plaintful, but she was successful in her persuasion.

Danse turned his back onto the scene, breathing slowly through his mouth and trying to put the agony from his head. MacCready had been wrong to assume he could not feel; those emotions he had a difficult time with only made him feel and act more human, and those emotions had been put into place by this―this Father, the man once known as Shaun, who caused Ruiz pain as well.

He did not know how long he stood there, but he was aware that Ruiz had come up beside him. She placed a hand on his arm, and moved to look at him. "Danse," she whispered, sniffling a little, but otherwise more composed than she had been. "We've got to go."

He realized that she'd set everything into motion while he was avoiding the strain―felt ashamed of himself, then. He nodded at her, gripping his rifle more tightly.

They moved onto the reactor. He was thankful that the hardest part of the mission was _over._

* * *

He was wrong. As soon as the two of them hit the top of the elevator and moved into the teleportation area, intent to leave the Institute, Ruiz paled and began shaking again. She didn't even need to hear the information that Sturges was relaying to her about the―

Danse cringed on the inside. The boy. The one who had been sent to live with Kellogg, to give him memories that Ruiz would have had to see. The synth child stared up at her and started pleaded with her to take him with her.

"Please, mom! Don't leave me here, I want to go with you!" he said, staring at her.

Ruiz didn't react right away. Didn't reply to the child. Danse watched her, carefully. He was unsure how he himself should react; this was her battle, not his, and... and he was still programmed to destroy synths.

"You're _not_ my son," she finally said, bitterly. "You're _not Shaun."_

"I don't want to _die!"_ the boy told her. _"Please,_ just think about it―"

"Why should I?" she answered, staring at him with anger in her eyes.

"I promise I won't get in your way," he replied, his words rushing together in their franticness. "I can take care of myself. You won't have to do anything. Please, just _don't leave me here!"_

Sturges cleared his throat. "General," he said, his words unsteady with emotion. "I don't mean to rush you, but we need to get this show on the road."

Ruiz turned away from the boy for a moment, her shoulders lowered and her hands moving up to her face. Danse moved forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. He leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"You may find this a surprise," he began, slowly, "but the boy will only be destroyed if he stays here. I may have... advocated for the destruction of all synths, but..." he sighed. "It is in the interest of all things living to _survive,_ Ruby."

She glanced up at him, blinking rapidly, her face tortured. "He's―" she shuddered once. "He's not my son, he's only a _synth―"_

"As am I," Danse told her, gently. "And you spared my life, went out of your way to protect me, even though I had asked you repeatedly not to. Is this boy so much different than me?"

Ruiz swallowed, wiped her face, and sighed. "Why would you..."

"Perhaps this is a chance for you to reclaim the past," Danse murmured, leaning down closer. "To have destroyed the Institute is enough to guarantee that no more synths will be made, and no more will terrorize the wastes. To take this child home... would allow you to have what you've _wanted,_ even if he's not fully human."

"You shouldn't be talking like that," she moaned, covering her eyes.

"No. But I have every reason to want for you to recoup," he pointed out, his voice lowering further. "This boy represents everything that you wanted, everything that you were looking for, when you came out of your Vault. It is a tangible link to the past for you―a memento of what you _shouldn't_ forget."

She breathed out, lowered her hands, and looked up at him. "...You're right," she said, dully. "If I left him here I would be no better than the rest of those assholes."

"The Institute will no longer be a problem, and the synths that remain are unlikely to cause concern," Danse told her. "I am, if anything, a prime example of that." He tilted his head to the boy. "With your guidance, this child will experience life as I have... and I _value_ that life."

"Okay," she said, turning back to the boy. "Thank you, Danse."

Danse nodded, straightening himself. If... he knew, if she were to leave the child here to be destroyed, she would agonize over the loss. In the time after the Institute was gone, he expected that her slipping into depression would be a severe setback. And...

He stared at the child. It looked so much like her. Having the boy in her periphery would give her comfort, something lost of her past that she needed to confront and to hold onto as hard as she could.

His own impossible nature, his own memories that were false... Danse sighed, watching Ruiz telling the boy to join her. He had nothing in his past to hold onto; nothing that he could verify as real beyond his arrival in Cambridge. Haylen and Ruiz had remembered for him, so that he knew _some_ memories _were_ real.

From this moment onward, he would exist for no purpose other than to doubt himself. He could not allow Ruiz to do the same.

She ordered the Minutemen out, motioning at Danse to follow her as they stepped into the teleporter―


	25. Time Now

Note: Calling it here. I think this makes an adequate end for a project that went about 80,000 words over my expectations. Thanks for reading! :) _(minor notation editing, a misplaced italic. Sorry)_

* * *

It was easier to push the button than she'd expected.

Maybe that was just her anger, finally able to have an outlet. Maybe it was because she'd expected it to be so much more difficult, because she'd put expectations on herself. Maybe it was even a little disappointing how easy it had been, but...

Ruby sat on the edge of the Mass Fusion building, staring out into the Commonwealth. Clouds of dust had rolled out through the city, pushing debris everywhere, after the massive explosion that destroyed the Institute. She could see the gaping hole in the ground, see the haze that hung over it. Everything down there would be massively irradiated now.

It was finally _over._ All that they'd been a part of, all the people who had been taken, the pain that the world had gone through by having the Institute around...

She could barely feel the pain of Shaun, anymore. She couldn't feel the terrible torture of falling in love with MacCready, or the crippling ache that had happened when she'd found out Danse's origins. In the months that she'd been a part of this new world, she'd changed herself and others and made the Commonwealth safer.

It would stop, here. The Institute was gone.

Ruby stared at the hole in the ground and felt herself sinking. The ground loomed below her, so many stories down from the top of the building. She'd never been afraid of heights, but the pressure that had been lifted... she should feel elated, excited to continue her life. She felt... _relieved,_ instead.

It seemed appropriate. Her hands gripped the ledge as she balanced on the edge of the world. Appropriate that she was now left hanging without a clear idea of what would happen next, but that feeling put her mind at ease. She snorted, and closed her eyes.

It felt like when Shaun was just born and she had _no clue_ what the hell to do with a baby, and it felt all those nights spent rocking him and falling asleep passed out in the rocking chair from exhaustion when he finally slept.

She'd had no clue what would happen after he was born. Having Shaun... having him and finally realizing that she'd made a _person._ A person who would grow up and it was _her_ job to make sure he grew up well. The unbridled hope she'd felt then, it was astounding.

She wouldn't let what _had_ happened taint her feelings, anymore. The past was to be remembered, learned from, and kept as memory.

Ruby tilted her head down, stifling a yawn. She was tired. Banged up from fighting so many synths. Her knee was still aching from the break, she needed a doctor to look at that. Worn out. Felt older than she had before, like the whole experience added more than the two hundred thirty six years she'd―technically―been alive.

Down in Goodneighbor, she'd run into the Vault-Tec rep who placed them in the Vault. Her heart ached for the man. Ghoulified and left wanting, all because of the sick experiments of―either the Vault-Tec people, or the Institute, she wasn't sure. She hadn't known it would end up like it had. She wished it hadn't, at the time. Now, after everything...

"Ruby," Danse said, coming up behind her and placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Are you... alright?"

"Just thinking," she said, opening her eyes and staring out over the Commonwealth again. She couldn't see the clouds anymore. The only proof of the CIT ruins would be the leftovers of the nuclear explosion.

"There's time, now," he said, somewhat cryptically. Ruby blinked, turning her head back to him. There had been time _before,_ time enough for her to agonize over the decisions she'd made and time enough for her to find and fall in love with MacCready, time enough to...

To destroy Danse's life, unintentionally, and then to repair what she could. Ruby sighed. "There's always been time," she muttered, darkly. "Now there's too much. I don't know where to start. Even... even _thinking_ about where to start is confusing."

Danse nodded, looking away and into the distance. "I would start with MacCready," he said, in a quiet voice.

"What about him?" Ruby asked, curiously.

"MacCready is in a different position, now. He will undoubtedly bring his son back to the Hills, and, well..." Danse looked uncomfortable. _"I_ will remove myself. It would be better for you both to have that time to adjust. Give him time to come to terms with his new family, so to speak."

For a moment she was confused, and it must have shown on her face, because Danse continued, "My presence might make things _worse,_ especially with the boy synth there. ...And I think it might be a good idea to reflect on my own situation, while alone."

Ruby closed her eyes again, feeling the wind brushing against her face as it swept through the area. "If you think that would be best," she said, "then it probably is."

Danse glanced at her, sharply. "I had expected you to put up more of a fight. I'm leaving, Ruby. You do understand?"

She met his gaze with an equally sharp one, but a smile rested on her face. "I know where you'll go," she answered. "You aren't hard to figure out, Danse."

"I hadn't considered myself all that simple," he replied, sounding a bit wounded.

"It's comforting," Ruby said. She looked at her hands, making a face at the mess of blood and debris that coated them. "Knowing you, knowing how dependable you are. You've not been a pain in my ass, like everyone else. And I _appreciate_ that," she scolded him, "because you're one less trouble for me to worry about. It's been a constant I look forward to enjoying in the future."

"That's why you consider me a brother? Because I am predictable?"

She pursed her mouth and fixed her eyes on him, thinking about what MacCready had told her, prior to the assault on the Institute. "Is there a reason I _shouldn't_ think of you as a brother?"

Danse hesitated. The short pause was enough to answer all her questions, including the ones wondering why he and MacCready had been at each other's throats for so long. She found it unsurprising, actually. What she'd told the ex-Gunner had been the truth―Danse would keep her alive, and not because of what she'd done to save his life. He didn't need to pay her back for that and he knew it. Instead, he'd...

He'd stuck around because he loved her. And if that was the reason he couldn't be around in the future, she had no control over it. Her heart wasn't hers to give, now.

 _Made your grave,_ she told herself.

"No," Danse said, firmly. "It is not in either of our best interests for me to cause you doubt in that matter. I'm sorry, Ruiz."

"Why did you start calling me Ruby if you're not going to keep it up?" she wondered aloud, watching him.

Danse flushed slightly, which was―something she'd been familiar with over the past few months, and had a side-effect of making him seem much younger than his synth body probably was. She wondered just how human a synth really was...

 _Another hole in the ground, there,_ Ruby thought, cringing inside.

"I felt it was... appropriate, in the heat of the moment," Danse said, slowly. "I apologize if I've confused you even more. Being familiar with my subordinates isn't a decision I make lightly."

"My name _is_ Ruby, Danse. You can call me Ruby. It won't make any difference." She threw her legs over the ledge and back onto solid ground, pushing herself up from the ledge. "I'm not your Initiate anymore and I'm certainly not your superior, either. We're _friends._ Please call me Ruby."

"As you wish, Ruby," Danse said, looking embarrassed again.

"Wipe that awful look off your face and let's get going," she added, feeling drawn out like a string about to snap. There was so much to do, now that the Institute was taken care of, she wasn't in the mood to handle interpersonal affairs with her normal aplomb.

"All of the people who would have been living in the Institute were evacuated," she went on. "We'll have to figure out how many want to stick around, and how many are going to leave, and if you're not going to be around, I'll be stuck with Preston, rounding them up."

"You'll manage, Rui―Ruby." Danse's mouth curled in a proud smile. "You always do."

"First, though, I'm going to go sleep for about three days straight," she groaned, rubbing her neck. "I feel like someone put me inside of a rock tumbler."

"Sleep is a cure for many ills," Danse said, his smile widening slightly. "But I expect you won't do much of it, in the future."

"I never do," Ruby laughed, turning back toward the building. "I never do."

"Godspeed, soldier," Danse called out, nodding at her. "You know where I'll be."

"Be safe, Danse."

* * *

"Ruby!" MacCready called, when she had finally made it home. Ruby walked right past him, noticing the synth boy wandering through around the old house. She didn't mean to ignore MacCready, but she was sore and exhausted and she couldn't string two thoughts together. All she wanted to do was lie down, get some sleep, and sort it out later.

She moved into the house by the workshop. Made her way back to the back end of the place, stripping off her leather armor and shaking out her hair. Her knee groaned in pain as she pulled everything but her underwear off and plunked herself onto the bed.

She flopped backward with her arms out, staring at the ceiling for a quiet moment. The everyday sounds of the settlement were muffled. She wondered if her hearing had finally gone, from all the gunshots and explosions and laser burns she'd take to the face. That would be just her _luck._

MacCready followed her into the room, leaning on the door frame just in the edge of her vision, staring at her with that little boy pout on his face and his arms across his chest. Probably mad she hadn't tackled him the minute she saw him... Ruby closed her eyes, turned toward the wall, and sighed.

She must have slept. She didn't remember it being dark out when she got back to the Hills, but she woke up with the light of a waning moon streaming through the holes in the wall and MacCready at her back.

His hand was laced through her arm, holding her around her waist so tightly she couldn't breathe very well. She worked her fingers through his, feeling the roughness of his knuckles. He was breathing on her hair, his other hand wound through it and his face nearly flush against her scalp. She didn't want to move. This was _perfect._

Well, except that her bladder started protesting its case. If she was to judge it accurately, they would both end up _unpleasantly_ wet. "R.J.," she whispered, urgently. "I need to get up. It's an emergency."

A long few seconds later, his hand untangled itself from her hair and the pressure on her stomach lessened. Ruby breathed out in relief, excusing herself quickly.

She found herself standing on the porch of the house, later, staring up at the stars and shivering in the cold. She felt... neutral. It was a strange feeling. Not sad. Not happy. Just... there. Wasn't sure how to handle it, yet.

And MacCready was at her back again, his arms around her shoulders and covering her. "You came outside half naked," he said, talking into her ear. "You'll catch your death."

Ruby flushed all the way to her toes. She _did,_ oh God. She'd come outside in her underwear without even thinking. Wasn't thinking, just had to pee and―Ruby turned, moving back to the house. _"Long_ day," she muttered.

"The longest," he agreed, his voice serious.

"I'm sorry," she said, curling back up on the bed beside him.

"What for?" MacCready's eyes bored through hers even in the scant light.

She wound her fingers through his coat, her forehead resting against his chest. "Everything. And I _know._ It's just..."

"You got your ass handed to you out there," he muttered, one hand around her shoulders and the other pushing her hair behind her ear. "You walked home on a busted knee?"

"It doesn't hurt," she answered. It didn't, anymore. Sleeping must have done her some good. Danse was right, yet again.

"How'd the mission go?"

For a moment, she entertained the thought of forgetting it had happened. How nice it would be to forget everything that she'd seen inside the Institute, to loose everything from her thoughts into a void and seal it up. But she knew better.

" 'Father' was dying," she said, quietly. "He was ill even when I saw him, before. He wanted me to... fill his shoes. To take over the Institute. When I left him behind, I couldn't even bear to be in the same room as him."

MacCready sighed, wrapping both arms around her and squeezing her to his chest. She couldn't cry. Not anymore. All the feeling she thought she might have to feel... she was removed from it, now.

"But," she said, her voice steadier than she felt, "I said my goodbyes, anyway. I couldn't have done what he wanted. And... he wasn't mine, anymore. The only thing I have left is... well... _Shaun."_

"That synth boy?" MacCready breathed out, noisily. "Are you sure, I mean―"

"It's a memory that I wasn't able to have," Ruby said. "Something I wanted, before." Her body started to shake―it was as cold tonight as the Vault, but she didn't have the energy to get dressed. "I couldn't leave him to die in there."

"This'll just make you feel worse," MacCready said, his arms loosening around her and fingers moving to rub her. "Last time..."

"I won't go running off to the Vault again," she promised. "Some battles are better fought head on."

"Yeah," he agreed, sighing. "Yeah, I know. But―"

"Running away won't fix it." She stared at him. He gave her a miserable look. She didn't know where she would be without him. Without everything that he was, combined with everything she was... "I love you," she whispered.

"Ruby―"

"And I'll never let go, you know that. I need you to be there for me more than _ever,_ now―"

"Oh, shut up," MacCready grumbled. "Just... just cry already. Ruby. You deserve the chance."

She shook her head, rubbing her face into his coat. "I can't. That's it. I just can't. This is what Nate would do. Bring _him_ home, start over. Make things feel like home again." She sighed. "I can't cry, because it's... it's a _happy_ ending."

MacCready's hands moved up, pulling her back a little and looking down at her from the awkward position. "Happy things can make you cry, too," he said, softly.

Ruby couldn't look away. "I refuse to cry," she said, a tinge of stubbornness in her voice. "There's nothing that's sad about this. The Institute is gone. I got Shaun back―and―and I've got _you,_ and Duncan, too, I hope. I couldn't ask for a better ending to a story."

Her eyes stayed on his. MacCready looked like _he_ wanted to cry, for a moment. His arms crushed her to his chest, sputtering out an exasperated laugh. "Dammit, Ruby," he muttered, into her hair. "You're such a snot."

"If I'm a snot, you're a _butthead,"_ she threw back. _He really hasn't grown up..._ she fought the urge to laugh.

"You should've seen me in my heyday," MacCready laughed, pulling her back to him and rubbing her skin in a rough circle. "I was the _most_ annoying little butthead you ever saw."

"Yesterday was your heyday?" she teased, gently.

 _"Smartass_ snot," MacCready amended his jab. "...But, listen. You know you can... if you need it. Talk to me."

"I know," she answered, sighing contentedly. "I just need time to figure myself out, again."

"Plenty now, huh?" MacCready asked, his hand moving up and down her shoulder.

"Have to figure out what we're going to do next," Ruby murmured, feeling sleepy and warm as she snuggled up next to him.

"Got the whole of our lives ahead of us, now."

"Yeah," she answered. "Our whole lives."


End file.
